Walking sideways.

Realization that fascination is only on the horizon

never close to hand, only over there and rising

like the sun, until it sets and the mind is only set on surviving

a night, a night with the directional glow of the maps lighting

the path to the mountain shining like gold, beyond the lightning

weathered blinding storms that left the innocence frightened

where no more is recited, no more is inviting, no more hiking

time like rope its binding, tightening till the here and now is the only sighting

and fascination like faith, is the only thing that's heightened.

Re-minded.

Corner sounds of thoughts read aloud

a map of numerous clouds and unmarked ground

a birds eye view of nests the cuckoo's flew

while below the worms grew to snakes of nothing new

and the apple trees bleed the knowledgeable dew of what was you

as the pictures die, a darkened hue, to retell the stories you never knew.

Life's key.

I shared a drink with the Devil, from the skulls of the dead

whiskey and blood soaked our lips as we kissed the decapitated heads

as we hollowed them out once more, we each shared a look and he said.

We both know what all this gore was for, for its the only way the doors are drawn

from where all the wandering souls are called, so do like me and drink some more.

For the first time I saw his drunken sorrow, the blame of today as God gifts tomorrow.

He then refilled our defaced mugs, his head hung low looking to the bottom of his fleshless cup

I turned to see all the bodies piling up behind him, all without his touch

so I asked. Is this all a setup, a coverup. 

I saw him smile as he explained, that we each have our roles 

2 faces of the same coin, isn't how eternity rolls

for we're all the same beyond the door and times the keyhole

and your sharing a drink with me, because of that key you hold.

Brain dead.

Play the music loud, to whisper their sound

for they bark a cage fit for a hound so proud

with shackles and chains they stand pillar bound

to the neuronic poisonous roots of such renown

to pray a prayer for them to be crowned with ground 

and rest silently beneath a hallowed burial mound.

Never lost, never found, forever around.

Time will pass.

Anguished bellows from the shallow gallows

with a circling disgusted hooded fellow, who crows follow

choking the restraints of the living baits 

for whom the trap doors do swallow

for those who gave up on a new tomorrow

for those who saw a crowd of hate 

and saw nothing but strength to borrow

for those dangling the short rope, short on hope

kept down low, for whom time grows slow

for the solo artisans in their darkened studios

the ones who refuse to go with the flow of the status quo

even though, the knotted cables is the only gift difference bestows.

I'm not ill.

The flowers the seeds, the tumble and the weeds

the grown trees and the falling leaves 

the disappearing reeds wave in the murky seas

ash cascades an atomic breeze of a blistering disease

skin melts a skeletal strip-tease of scientific expertise

otherworldly pleas as Earthlings flee.

You see, there's nothing wrong with me.