~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sometimes the best avenue to flee
Is to take the road
Where you stand your own ground

Where impulses of cessation
Were launched long before blood
Oozed through fossils of emotion
And thoughts of grandeur roamed prehistoric tar pits

Sometimes appearance
With its heroic maladies of perfection
And healing voices of sin
Form the alpha and omega to the rich and famous
Idolize the average guy masturbating into the wind
Genuflect to a deity dressed in drag
Look for authority in a uniform of political whims

Here misguided children
Wander through calculative cities
To reach fickle farmhouses
In search of the Holy Grail

Seeking companionship
About the vacuity of plastic trees
And starless planetariums

Looking to the sky
To see an image of themselves
Hanging in the barbwire of oblivion

Trying to swim backwards
In a pool of dulled razor blades

Saying to themselves
“What the f*** is going on with my life?
I'm bleeding brain bullets
Shot from a fool’s revolver
Outside the corral of the Golden Dawn”