Poezie
fodder for the madman
to cough up the moon
1 min lectură·
Mediu
bullets running down his throat
in laughter spineless
the bunker sacrament
no antidote
and wires in his brain
not Prozac whores
listen, sir!
doublethink the corridors
the wheelchair wars
were never fought outside the ward
in pitch dark
use no prayer
surrender to the sanitarium.
cracked
clockwork
in sickness and in faith
love-making of the meat assembly
organic solitude
knife wedded -
straightjacket skin
with broken locks
and strobe light eyes.
mad
child
fallen
asleep
we have turned you into this.
alive
unplugged
prison
bliss
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