Slipping into dremscapes with
Chesire Smiles and unlimited
potential
Cradling children crying in oblivion
with eyes that see no future
Limited

Limit the daytime novels
Limit the ignorance, obsessed
inducing headaches
By the time colors butcher everything
anybody has ever said
I lie awake dreaming of colors
erased with lead

Leading me to believe there is
no cure for the common confided
catastrophy
a Tragedy that shows in Hi-Fi
fecal depression

So sleep
Little Lost Serial Slave
The only means of a failed escape
with the guilded cunt that got
away with the televised child in
your arms

Show me
Show me how to get a grip on any reality,
with my adulterous arms fleeing with
the hemorrhoid freak
If I can't... how?... Scarlet Tramp!

I have some letters you'd love to seduce,
but so would I...

Show me how to hope for something a
little less -
less terrible, great, confusing, manuevering
in the Minotaur's house of lies
A dead end where I could practice my
fetal position
positioning myself to wait for wings that
carry me from Fantasia in waking Hades
to stability I could love
Planting my feet in an evergrowing
everannoying populace, populating
the open ranges of the spread eagle
prostitute

I
will not
Slave
over
the
Million Pin Prick March
and the
open air stabbing my crippled nubs

The Bastards of Present and Future Realities
will slave over me!

... but first... where does the tunnel lead?