all day long I
languished there in the TV room the attitude was somber the
tone was general gloom they promised me a window where I could see the street when my executioners arrived I wanted a ringside seat
voices from
the locked ward were calling out my
name they said there’d been a
murder and I was the one to blame but it couldn’t have been me I wouldn’t hurt a fly besides, I’d spent the month in jail and that’s the perfect alibi
but the voices
from the locked ward had my name
and number they’d primed the dreaded
meat machine and were eager to
take me under yes, there were
voices in my head who wished that
I was dead my thoughts gave
voice to fear and fear gave way
to dread
the mind can
play some tricks and mine was in
partial eclipse there was poison
in my blood I’d explain it if I
could I’ve seen some wicked shit that would make your stomach sick but I learned to embrace the voices I loved their crazy shtick
No comments:
Post a Comment