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Sep 2012
This combination
of obligation
And common sense
Has got me pacing
And wringing
My hands,
And I've been
Doing the dance
Of the permanently
Tranced
For far too long
To ever advance,
Or act like I'm strong,
So I guess
I'll swing, I'll sway,
Wave my hand,
Kick my leg,
But it won't be to music,
No,
Cuz there's just no song
For the land of the dead,
No background
Orchestration
For us here,
We just swing, and we sway,
To prevent the fear
From washing us away
From the face
Of the cosmic disarray
And down the grimy
Bathroom sink drain
In a toxic rain
Upon the roofs
Of clouds,
Where we gather
In crowds
And condense,
Like the people on the ground
But without the fences,
Who're eventually
Drowned
By the flood
Of colors and
Invigorated senses
In a sea of god's blood,
Like their religious
Romances
Explained that they would,
For if god is everything,
Including us,
Our bodies and brains,
Then god is made of water,
So when it rains
I'll give myself praise,
And the tiny drops
That fall from god's veins
Will remind me to stop
Dreaming of days
That have already gone away,
That argue "Walk this way"
"No. Walk this way,"
And I've got to say,
I can't walk at all,
My feet have somehow
Been replaced
By decades of fault
That have rooted
Me to this big blue ball
That's really not big,
But infinitely small,
And these minutes
Keep tocking
And my knees keep locking
While my feet keep ******* stalling,
And I'm mocking myself
As I feel myself falling
But I can't ******* stop
Enjoying the way
Everyone's eyes are rolling
As they watch the display
Of me falling
Flat on my face,
Where I'll lay
And grow mold
And feed bugs
And eventually decay,
All the while caught
In the gaze
Of a society
That pays
To be told
It's ok,
While lying prostrate
Next to me,
Rotting away
Just the same,
Trying to explain
By vomiting excuses
That aren't even good,
And it's to no gain
Since my face is
Buried deep in the mud
And I don't give a ****
Where society puts its blame,
I wish this putz
Could just
Stop being so lame
And rattling off names
That don't mean a thing to me
So I could be at peace
Here in the dirt
Where I'm sinking,
To emerge come spring
And bloom in
Full shame.
Mike Bergeron
Written by
Mike Bergeron  DC
(DC)   
819
 
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