Slipping into dremscapes with
    Chesire Smiles and unlimited
    potential
Cradling children crying in oblivion
    with eyes that see no future
Limited

Limit the daytime novels
Limit the ignorance, obsessed
    inducing headaches
By the time colors butcher everything
    anybody has ever said
I lie awake dreaming of colors
    erased with lead

Leading me to believe there is
    no cure for the common confided
    catastrophy
a Tragedy that shows in Hi-Fi
    fecal depression

So sleep
Little Lost Serial Slave
The only means of a failed escape
    with the guilded cunt that got
    away with the televised child in
    your arms

Show me
Show me how to get a grip on any reality,
    with my adulterous arms fleeing with
    the hemorrhoid freak
If I can't... how?... Scarlet Tramp!

I have some letters you'd love to seduce,
    but so would I...

Show me how to hope for something a
    little less -
less terrible, great, confusing, manuevering
    in the Minotaur's house of lies
A dead end where I could practice my
    fetal position
positioning myself to wait for wings that
    carry me from Fantasia in waking Hades
    to stability I could love
Planting my feet in an evergrowing
    everannoying populace, populating
    the open ranges of the spread eagle
    prostitute

I
will not
Slave
over
the
Million Pin Prick March
and the
open air stabbing my crippled nubs

The Bastards of Present and Future Realities
    will slave over me!

... but first... where does the tunnel lead?

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