Artifacts of Thought

Curse you for not lifting a finger

The black line up your back

Show-cases your crime...

Curse you in your prime!...

Pencil pusher, why don't you erase

Something besides the ever changing world

That now races past your power-point

As you flaunt a flawed perspective...

Ain't it easy to fall backwards?...

Ain't it easy to talk like you're walking so pearly sure...

I lost the trail, and went off crying to myself

Until a new way opened up...

My teeth fell out, the back molars, and then the eye-teeth

As I confronted my grief...

Did you not catch the sign that sprung out of the invasive

Thicket?...

Maybe now we'll move with it

As the stars fall in great gobs from the clouds,

And we crowd around the bodies...

Beware not of the filth of the tongue, but the dry fungus

That attacks the lifeless glands

Causing you to erase...

...You must not displace

Your total sense of new, it's so truely intact

behind the black shivering curtains that are artifacts

of your thought...

Take the time.

©

1/18/21

Bunny Villaire