a ricocheting reflection

I got me an unknown feeling
under the tapping trap door
to my subconscious
Hey I don’t take no selfies
while I’m hugging god
in my straight jacket

I’m just an unknown
drunk poet psychopath
looking for a conscious
Hiding out I said hiding out
in societies isolation ward
listening to the hypocrites
droning over a droning racket

One more bottle
and I’ll be drinking
the dregs of introspection
And another memory
will be left behind
killed, I said killed, dead
by a ricocheting reflection

I stand in naked feet
looking at my backyards
Junkies junkyard wasteland
The grass has grown high
cause no one dances it flat
these sad sad ghosting days

These sad days you’d think
I’d be drinking my sweet rum
outside of my last legs stand
Well you’d be wrong as wrong
Cause I’m still hiding out
till the icky sticky phantoms Pale
and the past passes aways

One more bottle
and I’ll be drinking
the dregs of introspection
And another memory
will be left behind
killed,i said killed, dead.
by a ricocheting reflection

Is that questionable noise
under the tapping trap door
my escape tunnel being dug
How come I get,i gets me
the feeling I’m a standing
on an ancient gallows site
I says I know a mighty Orifice
is destined to devour my Being
as if I were a fucking mantis
Now I turn my stiffening back
on the rotting orange setting sun
as if that’ll stop its fate fueled flight

One more bottle
and I’ll be drinking
the dregs of introspection
And another memory
will be left behind
killed,I said killed, dead.
by a ricocheting reflection

I look at my shadow
stretched out as a cross
In the back yard relaxing
Stretched out ceremonially under
the dead twisted childhood tree
My shadows elongated neck
been tickled roughly to death
by the knotted swing rope

My glory in the sun
has shrunk me
in the presence
of my Shadows waxing
Within my waning
I find dawfing
my Shadows will
an incomprehensible hope

One more bottle
and I’ll be drinking
the dregs of introspection
And another memory
will be left behind
killed,i said killed, dead.
by a ricocheting reflection

Standing on the trap door
I hear the demonic horde
rap out on my memories
moratorium
My shadows applause
is amplified
in this global
glass house auditorium

I can feel the heat
sucking my sweaty memories
from my pores
Through  a curly straw
As I await
for the trap door
to release me into
the succubus worms maw

One more bottle
and I’ll be drinking
the dregs of introspection
And another memory
will be left behind
killed,I said killed, dead.
by a ricocheting reflection

In the end
all the memories die
of self mutilating lies
Deconstructing
the beast into a husk
The shadow hatches
as a cloud of flies
Dispersing
to feed
into the abattoirs dusk

©bg 2016

Advertisements

33 thoughts on “a ricocheting reflection

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s