The Breaks In Streets, They Summon Us (Multiple Realities, You Dig?)

You, pronounced brave...

...Placed and stacked to split

In front of a night bus,

And stalled...

...The world's

Lengthy shadow,

Chucked at nightmare

Speeds from

A cracked

And drafty port!...

...You flew,

Screamed 'til pink

In burnin' agony,

'til hot nodes in

Your furnace throat

Had burst, and

Bled profusely...

...You,

Who were pronounced

So brave,

Engraved

In the imitation leather

Daisy chain arm chair claim

That was ultimately

Your alternate grave...

...Peel yourself

Up off the badly hexed

Sideway sidewalk slant,

And chant...

...This ain't where you

Get off,

No!...

...That shit roads' for

The marketers, and the

Pirates of the

Last squandered haul

That is at hand...

...It's on demand!...

It's the whole damn,

Writhing

Ball of tainted wax!...

...Also, there's

Burning hair we've

Yet to care about

That's left sealed

To the bottom of the stove...

...Some damned poet

Left it,

When she was drying

Out her clothes,

And burning through

The paint

That had settled

On her sheets...

The streets,

They summon us!...

...But what will

We be

Subject to

Next week?...

©

3090

Bunny Villaire