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austin-mosherPoems
Allow me to introduce you to the scene: Empty rooms with padlocked portals Absconding the identities of the small town Metropolis. Crawling through it's empty corridors; The syrupy melodies, of muddy songs, Humming themselves. I see the earth raining into the clouds. The bone marrow Injustice bleeds through the Kevlar canvas Calling out to severed limbs (of porcelain trees) On secluded islands, crowded by ten-thousand concrete angels. Ten- Thousand. "COME ONE COME ALL" "PREPARE TO BE AMAZED!" Cries the vulture on the Master Of ceremonies shoulder, as he circles The empty bleachers in Padlocked rooms. Erogenous melodies now; Creak through the cracks of the hardwood Floors, whitewashed seven times over. Is the television too loud, masking the tune that's Cascading through the room? The nocturnal sun goes to sleep at night Tonight. Tick-Tock-Tick-Tock-Tick-Tock. The grandfather clock awaits Its final Stroke. The overwhelming smell of bathtub Moonshine, awakens the vanity, And drowns royal dignity. Tell the truth, You have heard this story one million times now. The ending is ALWAYS THE SAME. And yet the tape is rewound And fastened to our eyeballs.
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Oct 21, 2013
Oct 21, 2013 at 4:30 PM UTC
Be Cruel; Rewind.
Allow me to introduce you to the scene: Empty rooms with padlocked portals Absconding the identities of the small town Metropolis. Crawling through it's empty corridors; The syrupy melodies, of muddy songs, Humming themselves. I see the earth raining into the clouds. The bone marrow Injustice bleeds through the Kevlar canvas Calling out to severed limbs (of porcelain trees) On secluded islands, crowded by ten-thousand concrete angels. Ten- Thousand. "COME ONE COME ALL" "PREPARE TO BE AMAZED!" Cries the vulture on the Master Of ceremonies shoulder, as he circles The empty bleachers in Padlocked rooms. Erogenous melodies now; Creak through the cracks of the hardwood Floors, whitewashed seven times over. Is the television too loud, masking the tune that's Cascading through the room? The nocturnal sun goes to sleep at night Tonight. Tick-Tock-Tick-Tock-Tick-Tock. The grandfather clock awaits Its final Stroke. The overwhelming smell of bathtub Moonshine, awakens the vanity, And drowns royal dignity. Tell the truth, You have heard this story one million times now. The ending is ALWAYS THE SAME. And yet the tape is rewound And fastened to our eyeballs.
austin-mosher
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austin-mosher
Oct 21, 2013
Oct 21, 2013 at 4:30 PM UTC
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