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Legitimate Salvage

If you prick me do I not bleed insides come spilling out like weeds tangled, feral, noxious - still creating patterns that never will be replicated, try or not this tangled mess is all we've got Fatalism? Of course one may etch the outcome into clay limestone, talc cliffs, iron, rust all eventually turn to dust the end is the beginning  until it's the end all's not over til it's over my friend Slates can be cleared and cleaned with care all the instruments are there an honest day's work for an honest day's pay alas, honesty's not something you parlay not a trick for a parlour that you can play on me I know too much and Too much can i see The tapestry woven with threads of my soul tattered and tainted you took it all Painted a future that was always a fake such an impressionist talents on display isolate me, convince me i was crazy ever the saint tolerating my mayhem no matter how 'terrible' everything became you'd stick it out 'ride or die...

The Night's Plutonian Shore

Wielding pattern recognition 

With a surgical precision 

A thousand cuts, expose the hidden

Watch pieces fall away


Smouldering and mildewed I

Cast to fate with a loaded die

Knowing even as I try

That it's a hopeless game


Draw from this overflowing pail 

Transmutation, try and fail

Only an endless widow's wail

Rivulets down the drain


Atrophic entropy abounds 

Where the heart cries yet makes no sound

The vacuum of this sinkhole ground

Swallows the light of day


Interwoven truths and fictions

Form one endless contradiction

Event horizon, formless friction

Not to be seen again


Hour by hour the body stiffens

No call is made, status indifferens

The gore lays spilt amongst the gristle

A live dream set to decay


Single wire earth return 

Oh how I fear yet long and yearn

But this discarded dusty urn 

Is all that remains




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