Predictions of mortal incisions
Placed again on scars…
In valleys of blade’s perfection..
Weary of the almighty super stations.
Within the channels of television creation…
A derivative work of artistic cruelty..
Vision: last moments,
One more down. No lasting impression.
How long? For me?
Wonderland said time would stand still.
A fairytale fist-fuck. I believed.
In fight of a linear existence.
Static on the screen.
Can you be fulfilled?
When minutes pass like seconds in millennium days.
The drive gnaws at me.
Without the force to draw you across again.
Broken recordings in my mind: laying with you.
Only lying to myself in convoluted haze…
And oh, the praise of canned clapter!
People to easily part ways.
Still the specter of images: follows me.
In body cherry kool-aid.
Swirling and Swirling.
Time to change the channel.
The recollections of past days.