There is a man walking slowly in me And he’s going through each room, one by one, Turning on all the lights while passing by Stripping the scenes with silver dollar eyes. With a flick of his chicken bone finger The kitchen lights violently flare up To reveal tomato stains, upset Stomachs, windows and broken table legs. “Call the medic now!”– In the living room The lights just found choked up throats and down town Sticky red wine stains that bleat beat up Little lambs for little peeps and little Mistakes that become big scabs and big scams That swallows the shallowest of waters. Now the man who certainly loves the light Is in the bathroom where the peeping brights Gouge and grind the snuffed and lying young man Till he is but the pulp and rind and juice. “Where’s the medic?” Screams the mad running blood “Where’s the ******* medic?” They cry again. Now he tricks the porch light into being Forcing it to leer upon this **** scene Of a man barely living, most likely Sleeping, with a garden hose stuffed down his Gorgon throat seeping– weeping – all at once. Where is he now? The man who loves the lights? He’s walking to the impressive bedroom. The lights wrestle and work the shadows down Looking for the living, the last one home Hiding away just in his underwear. The man of lights opens the closet door Just takes a look at the creature’s features When he has finished, when he has remarked He marks the skin with light, then tears it off. He takes each muscle each tendon and bone And throws them, crashing the walls as each falls! Boom boom! Goes the muscle through the bathroom Boom boom! Goes the bone through the kitchen Boom boom! Goes the tendon through the bedroom. Boom boom! Goes the heart through the rooftop Boom Boom! Goes the head through the frondoor.
There was once a man that walked within me And he has left the lights to burn on and on