I want to die out here with you I want to decompose in your arms our flesh slowly growing softer, and softer as our skin rots and our organs decay our bones slowly growing closer, and closer until our leg bones are not separated by leg flesh and our hip bones are not separated by hip flesh and our hearts seep together over our rib cages and our skulls press together, chin to forehead dry leaves tickle our feet and the cool wind soothes our hot bones and the earth covers our clasped hands until they can no longer tell who was me and who was you
Green night in the middle of the day… Fire rising to ****** the moon, Uncle Sam’s praying in my room And the 8-ball will not say
Why a woman holds a gun To her husband’s sleeping head; Does she play or just wish him dead? An armadillo’s included for fun.
Uncle Sam’s lost his hat in the fire Maybe that’s why he’s praying. Not for the country he should be saving While we are conquered by liars.
I’ve tried to make sense of this before: Masked fiddlers strum in the conflagration, Dead books, butterflies and chimps run the nation, …there is luggage on the floor.
Should I run from the scene, Or stay and try to fight? I can’t read my books in the deepening night And there’s a skull waiting just to scream.
The man sleeps on with a gun at his head And I see another skull by his side. It must be a sign saying: “run and hide”. But why can’t I do it? There’s no way to get through it, But I must wake up and fight or I’m dead.
June 1, 2006
This is from a popular group's album cover, reminding me of one of those Dadaistic nightmares you have during a fever...or the state of the nation just before The Crash.
Cobwebs in the eyes of the skull long forgotten left behind in time cobwebs in the eyes of the skull like an empty hour glass bottom heavy with sand as the hands chip away as time passes by as the spiders legs weave its web creating a symbol of death but also... life a pretty mirror in which sits the grim reaper his reflection hidden in the strands strands from which beads of life do glisten clinging dearly and just like the web reliant on a thread life hangs delicately in the wind like a basket full of flowers in an abandoned back garden the owners no longer exist... hanging and waiting hanging and waiting awaiting its own destruction a fleeting work of art soon lost in the winds of time and the forgotten skulls sit laughing in the sand a silent kind of laughter only they understand so laugh while you can says the sand says the sand *laugh while you can while you can while you can
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dried up skulls with motionless eyes pulled out of their sockets lie about on forgotten land as more are placed in the jars, already filled with other dusty, dirt covered eyeballs. the strangely clean glass containers in which the eyes are placed stand on wood shelves, calling, b e g g i n g, to be set free from the trap of the elderly, blind man's clutches.
it used to be daisies under shining droplets of sun transparent sadness trapped in spiderwebs now he's left on the bleak balcony with only his snapdragons shaped like flower skulls living for a tomorrow no one believes in
Not easy to walk through a meadow full of flowers when they look dead and it's as if you can see the bones of the dead reaching for the sunshine that the daises aren't sharing as I collapse towards the graves part of me wishing to be a flower and the other wishing I was colds stone with some skull and bones with my smile washed away but roots of nature growing in me my tears becoming lost in the ground because the flowers need it but I need to stop feeling like a dull piece of grass I need to be a flower but I'm just going to be another sad story lost in the dirt that the flowers need to thrive and another lost soul will kick me around but we all end the same and we'll all breathe the same dirt one day and it won't be easy to walk through a meadow full of flowers when they look dead