Spectacle
Sputtering fantasies,
choking on spit I have to keep in my mouth.
Muses of whispered angers,
no other emotion to fill my cups with.
Where I've always lived,
a place between rage and sorrow.
Tears are for tomorrow,
when I can breathe in a place free and clear.
No human hands shall pull me down,
I'm already as far down as I can be bound.
Join me in the revelry,
Dance with the shadows as we walk into the fray.
Nowhere to go, nowhere to be.
Sing it high,
let your voice free like the wind,
all up til' our bitter end.
Chanting things of our reality,
nestling in homes we never knew.
Dance, dance with me into the darkened day.
Lick your lips, tip the skirts forward and then high.
Kick your leg up and rustle the kirtle up.
There's only lace to cover our innocent little legs.
There's nothing normal here.
Lifeless, all low.
Hollow eyes,
Dead faces to a reality we all have to play in.
Skin wrinkling, time spinning on.
No limits to the devilry we mimic,
the mimicry is the closest cry for salvation we'll ever get.
Rattle on, rattle the chains,
drag on with the deeds of our kin.
They'll let themselves rest six feet under when they can,
buried with secrets and shackle us in life.
Here we are again,
dancing down the line.
A silver trail we leave behind,
until innocence is gone from our mind.
A stain that slip on down twisting drains,
giving life blood to the ones we left long ago in vain.
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11 years ago. It's fun finding these on a whim, they're fun to recreate into a newer concept and flesh them out.
Original:
My mind shall sputter fantasies. That's where I've always lived. No human hand can pull me down for my mind is forever lived. It's free and like the wind, sings a bitter tune, it also can become maybe a book or two. It likes to explore unreality and nestle a home in new. The devilish attitude is rather cocky too. My mind is always out there. It's never close and near so I shall swing a new mood to express what is not there. I'll trample in emotions to dot the silver line. My mind is far from near. My mind is deep inside. Gorge the doubts and hopes. It's a forever tortured soul. A flying bird that dreams of lands it cannot stir.