I'm not Brian

June 1

I’m not Brian

I thought life was based on a system of ‘I will suffer and that will exempt you’.  Then I would be horrified when you suffered, after I had already done so ahead of you.  In an attempt to ease my dismay I would look to see who had broken the pact, you or me.  Had I not endured sufficiently to protect you?  Had you left the safety of the umbrella of sanctuary?  Panic gives birth to blame and blame of course births nasty biting things that run loose and bury in all the tender spots.  Now, the goals I tend are to end the breeding of those sharp and painful beasties, stop laying my neck upon the alter and start telling better jokes.

Scramble cracked perceptions

*

DANCE OF DEATH

Honeyed words pour from lips

Shades of doubt color my mind

Stained glass eyes look to blank walls

And picture the gallery of imagination

Attempting to sell it for hard currency

Sirens sing from the throats of mute men

The screams which rise in me fall on deaf ears

Paradox feeds controversy but it needn’t

Evolution from a cesspool is repugnant

Though process is steady made

Inertia is violent if that is from whence it came

Afterbirth is always bloody and humans not always nice

I must live and heal as others climb up and slide down

I must keep the beat and forget the dance of death.