Life's Harvest.
Puppets on strings
limp
uninterested
shimmer to the command
of fate's twisted smile.
One with an Uzi,
another
a Glock:
the excuse for father's absence.
Working class war
whore
dissected,
rotted reason of banality,
wetted by the appetite
of every strangers intrusion:
fists clenched
face frozen frayed,
pupils dilated
rage:
they were mummies boys.
White lines peppered the neon glow,
insight pickled
beyond delusion,
consequence of feeling poor,
rooted from the age of six.
Desires overflowed with every passing blow,
erect extensions of manhood
pleasured,
each scream driven,
showered the mall,
memories like shards flew faster than
R.E.M.s at 5:05.
The whites of my eyes
popped
as one voice echoed
'please… forgive me.'
Words
filtered
without ego,
desperate
yet warmed.
Death.
the blanket that wraps us all,
life's harvest.
Copyright.2007. SYMPATHY'S SYMPHONY
Michaela James.
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