Yellow calluses ooze liquid ecstasy
On stiff rusted triggers
Silent are the hours that burn away
In perpetual midnight bliss
There is no illusion
Hidden within the dark walls
Of obscenity / listen closely
I can hear
Echoes of chanted death songs whisper
In obscure hollow voices
Stillborn is the air
That fill the chamber
Everything now clear
Like broken glass
Enlarged within my throat
The subliminal messages begin their release
Detachment wait at fingers edge
The glass slivers have done irreparable damage
No more words, just red tears of discontent
The pendulum swings impossible
Against time
Seconds lean on creation
Humanity thread the eye of the needle
The night remains sharp
Like the steel edge of a blade
Cutting open reality
Sterile are the lost children
Out of time, out of reason, out of everything
Out, out, out, cry the voice of extremity
Take a deep breath while
Anxiety tear at the core
Like black hairs on a fly’s back
Nothing needs to be rescued
Except me
But no one can hear me
Hand m the 38 caliber on the table
11.59 p.m.
Give me a minute with the equation
12.00 .am
Squeeze..
- Ken Riccio original poems ©
