10.27.2003 :::
Two Weeks From the Post
It’s coming soon, the anniversary.
You can’t feel it because it’s not there.
The vamps and their delights,
Robbed the citizens of their
Crops and their nights.
Forced to retire for the sun’s set.
Electricity has no place here.
What is it Mina? Did you have
A bad dream of things best left
Unexplained? Go to sleep,
And forget it with candies
And peppermint slumber.
I’ve nothing left to say,
Good thing you passed out,
Because this doesn’t feel right,
No it just doesn’t feel right,
That feeling that you left,
You know you left it, right it,
Correct it, send it to the Editor.
He’ll tell you what’s wrong with it.
The doctor and his patient,
Diagnosed for something non-
Existent. This is not the end.
Visit the egg farm,
You’ll be lucky to get in.
Just like the morticians who,
Who always have something
To hide. Tell Selene to go
To the market, and find only,
Only the apples fallen from
The trees. It’s not crazy.
Everything is worse when
You understand it. Behind
Locked doors. Doors of
Perception? Blake’s Bible,
A diffident aroma. That’s
Not right, no that can’t be
Right. Go to Sleep. You
Won’t be wasting time.
You won’t miss anything
That won’t be on the news.
They television is your new
Time machine. It’s puts the
Quotation marks where you
Please. It’s put the bad people
All in jail. Well it arrests them
Anyway. Maybe I’ll give you
A Veil on your wedding day.
So you won’t have to see him,
Not that night, because he’s
A Thief who’ll rob you,
And he’ll never get it back.
Sometimes, just sometimes,
It’s better when you don’t
See it, or if you get it,
Get it two weeks late.
::: posted by Matthew at 10:44 PM
