Gray Mist Cut

The film on the mind
Dissipates

Toxins fought against bitterly
Finally run down the drain

Awareness floods in
A mixed blessing
At last, the neglected child realizes
He has painted himself unworthy of love

He had courted further abuse to keep familiar
And when the weather got too rough, he picked up and walked
There is not a woman alive who has kissed both sides of his face
But a few waltzing, happy-faced, neurotic impulses have wrapped their live wires around his heart…and left him twitching

Unadulterated
Pure
Energy
Passion
Unchecked Insecurity
Reflex
Pain
Repulsion
Test Complete

Diagnosis: Unknown

He looks at the boards of the bridges he had dismantled
“Should I try to reach the shores of the lands I once knew?”
Pleading voices call to him from the horizon
“If only I knew that they belonged to a woman who could kiss both sides of my face”

A gray mist rolls in
And obscures him from our view
Is this weather too rough for him?
I wonder what he’ll do…

Midnight

When the second hand separates
the one from the two,
it severs the ties
that they once knew.

The method of time is a familiar tune
that frequently breaks because the age of the glue

A pair of far eyes
watches the dance.
The souls spilling over
without choice take a chance.

Madness alive,
look at them go!
We haven’t the reason
to do more than crow.

Invisible legions drift in and out.
Devils and angels use the same route.

And when comes the morning,
there’s nothing but dust
and tales of the crossing
that the two eyes distrust.