Sunday, April 8, 2007

The Marijuana

A bridal gown you wear,
And peek through the cage
Of self...claiming to be free,
From the cuffs of passing weeks.

Did you break free, or
Sawed your hands?

"Mommy mommy...I won’t
I won’t, let go of my casket the
Undertaker brought,
Don’t lick my sleeping wounds,
I have wolfed to bleed myself".

O you O you...not-so-pretty face,
’wish you had know your abortive kind,
Feeding on the flesh of a neighbor is easy,
Sucking your own isn’t so divine.

Jump and crave, and hail and fire,
You just changed the name of desire,
Writing pretty words is not your story,
Don’t deny the probing hood of satire.

“Did I say narcissism?
Did you puke the "loving" kind?
Were we born to cannibalize the "self"?
Or I just mimed your gory time?"

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