First Person Possessive

We danced on a pin
And the marrow flies flapped around in figure eights
And as it trickled down my chin...
We lifted the plaque
And the sun peaked in through a crack beneath the door
And the sky inched closer,
Hoping to find what I had opened for, what I had opened for.

Inside, the pillow peels, the wax conceals the floor.
I find I'm still again, but much more than before.

The gentle journey jars to stop,
The drifting dream is done.
The long-gone goblins lurk ahead
The deadly that we thought were dead,
And now we'll walk as men have walked
Through years not yet begun.
The gentle journey wanders on,
The deadly lie there waiting,
Every one.

I dive though the grass
And the ground fills in around me in slow motion
Like I'm a melting ball of glass.
I spit out into space
And it washes through my face with warm divide
And the reflex diode
Spreads it's allegiance around the mountainside,
Around the mountainside.

It seems my fate is hewn in my cocoon where I hide.
I tried to lose my cross, but only lost my guide.

The gentle journey jars to stop,
The drifting dream is done.
The bumble birds have ceased to shout
The things you scream when lights go out
And kingdoms never cry out loud
Until they're overrun.
The gentle journey wanders on,
The deadly lie there waiting,
Every one.


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Copyright 1992 Zach London

Hard Taco Radio

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