Saturday, September 25, 2010

spokes from fate's wheel

A hard snow, sleet, hail
is soon to fall
You won't be ready;
but you need to clear out space
for impending

I dreamed I was awake in a place I had often dreamed of.
I said:  "This is the place of my dreams."
Then, an icy dead hand grabbed my shoulder,
revealing my fear.
'I do not fear you."  I said.  I lied.
"You are only my imagination."
She cackles, pushing her scaled hand
into my subconscious flesh.
This is not how the dream is meant to be;
not how I remember.
When I wake, as I always do,
I am disappointed.

Such a common hothouse flower
wilting alone without the power
to take a stand
to make a plan and see it through
Won't you buy me
before I die
Take me home
Make me cry
Give me a plot to root in
Let me bloom
in this tiny room
for you alone.

The human experience
made disappointing by 
a vastness of assholes
shitting without responsibility
leaving a mess the few who care
can not possibly address
so we become resigned to
drowning in shit
until we do finally drown
and get out
are we destined to be
eternally frozen 
in shit?

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