#1
wait...what?

neverending acid trip
curtained in cable-wires,
talking down to trees and
setting the table on fire,
i'm an old face on an older planet,
and the seeds of newborn eyes,
may just be lovers en route to damascus.
i've sat in the train station watching
the times roll like tumbleweed,
drooling and dueling with dramamine.
etched my initials into the spiderleaves,
and now i am stuck in the net of what is
and has forever been, but
in the ache and dismay of the winter,
i hope i stop to wonder,
where have my letters gone?
am i now a part of some forgotten microcosm?
and in all the wonderment of another summer spent
in my bed pissing rainbows,
i may have become an echo in the old ravine,
carried some distance but eventually faded to nothing.
and i don't know if i'm a christian,
but i sure am scared of god,
because something is very, very wrong.

Last edited by NGD1313 at Dec 18, 2009,
#3
Please, for the love of god, change that title. You have a stunning piece of work here, and the title sounds like something Insane Clown Posse might puke up. Seriously, this piece is outstanding. I can't even think of something I might change. This is true excellence, with the exception of that abhorrent title.