I took the pills, but they're no-show
in the damnable dark that is rising
to squat wide butt in my twilight,
or call it dusk settling of reality,
asking questions I cannot answer,
never have been able,
just live through it.
Like a sewer riptide, just paddle
and maybe something floating will get you home.
My vision fades in and out in colors,
the seashore waves breathing in my ears.
I sit in a hard chair and get up
to pace when the electricity roams
through my legs, my arms.
My mind doesn't know where to go,
just out and away
from this messy world, the lies
for no good reason, other than
to hurt as the end.
Here I sit, tapping keys with a choking
cigarette curling in my nostrils,
smoking words just coming out, out
to add no piece of grace
to my unshaven face, itches
on my back want to sleep,
but I can't, I'm driven by chauffeurs
of dubious nature, better, nefarious
ideas patter my brain skull,
purples black, and green, sickly.
It's too hot in here, baked biscuits
come to mind. The walls stay closer
to wrap my thinking in dirty plastic.
Make me sweat the armpits,
steep my clothes and tremble first thing
every responsibility morning, reminders.
Of course I trash those plans, I can't get past
the pressure gates. Bites niggling
like bats come to sip of my crimson
guilt, another story, a stupid excuse.
So I think faster because it wont leave the house.
It stains the carper with wine left
to be cleaned when far too late.
Sleep in my clothes because it's safest
with people outside my door,
The shower is lonely, but so sexy with rushes
of hot water, when I eventually step on the cold
porcelain, same as the toilet. Slippery white.
My beard is a bristle from two days less razor,
I wait for night to act in private. In some peace.
I don't know what insane is, it could live with me,
though I can't see it, I hear the grumbling,
storytelling good is death, to settle my soul,
and I rest. But I have hooded secrets,
boxes in my dusty attic that I can't hide
from myself. I unlock them, so my good list,
melting, puddles at my feet. I believe, yes,
in dark angels. I feel their wet breath.
I circle to land, oh, another time again, twice,
then many, a fool's cruel mercy shades my lot.
I continue.
� 2000 DPMcClellan
