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Jail

The walls screamed poetry disease & ***

an inner whine like a mad machine -

dropped in a

cave of roaches

or rodents

 

The Computer

faces of the men

 

The wall collage

reading matter

 

The Traders (dealers)

~~~

 

I am a guide to the labyrinth

Come & see me

in the green hotel

Rm. 32

I will be there after 9:30 p.m.

 

I will show you the girl of the ghetto

I will show you the burning well

I will show you strange people

haunted, beast-like, on the

verge of evolution

 

-Fear The Lords who are

secret among us

~~~

 

Leaving the phone-booth, I was

Struck by a whiff of

the weird.

Insane old country woman

come to nag the haunts

of town

Hairy legs w/open sores.

 

From what swamp or under-rock

did you crawl to remind

us what we choose

to leave

Written by
Jim Morrison
1943-1971 / Male / American
Lines·Words
35·143
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