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NAVIGATION
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.:Satan's Rifle:.
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every night
shotguns spray my mind
with satanic bullets
shattering my bones
flesh, blood, beliefs
shadows, shells, and the masks i made
these brave deceptions
behind four cold hard walls
so thin, flaky, transparent
like a skeleton's vain attempt
to hide the heart inside,
carried out by ugly daemons
with no more freedom than myself
an endless steel chain
presses tighly around my leg
leaving a permanent imprint
and binding me to a distant guillotine
seven stages away
as my soul grimaces
with a grave countenance
somewhat ghostlike in appearance
almost entertaining
if not for its grasp on each breath
or the way it sucks my life away
in a vain attempt to exile itself
from my mind..
frightening is the fashion
i have torn my own flesh from bone
and my soul from its heart inside
as i lie here half awake
in a hallucinogenic trance
four limbs sprawled out
shaking on the floor
and each chained
shred apart at the joints
one to each wall
-one for each chamber.
april 2002
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Copyright© Murat Ates 2004
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