The dead with their broken fingers, crushed by time pressure;
their burden passed onto me, hold on for some hours
help is on its way. Just stay sane,
stay conscious, don’t faint.
Heads bend down; sunken stares into 010 worlds
necks trained strong, weak, degenerated spiral limbs
losing flesh; the rotten meat, huge chunks drop
like bread crumbs; advised to be followed. But I am
passing by billboards and toothpaste ads
for fake smiles and hair styles and good mood pills and easy
solutions; bathroom stall lifestyles,
earn to consume and divest.
Searching for shadow
thrown by spotlights
before heat turns my eyes into liquid.
Drinking blood bored by thorn hides
Skull Cocktail shakers; black powder puffing fire rings…
and cylinders taken off to
white sugar scratched off
the horizon with a overrun credit card;
get drunk with Poseidon
the dead man’s curse lifted off the treasure;
the cattle popped of the pale, green turning faces
pain obscured thanks to a maze and booze rushing
swirling million desires, that escape the safety of critical thought.
Spanish music blurs out of a jukebox; can’t understand a word
a long dead washwoman sings over the smell of bacon and eggs
exploding heads
and war exhaustion found in the aftertaste
of mood under your fingernails
proclaim “I had enough”
and pass out, blackout, lights out
breathing sprinkles
in and out. Flavour crawls down your fate,
while my body rests half-dead
vital symptoms intact
in strawberry cake.
John D.Dexter 