Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god

Dishabille

The mendacity pulls me into a
Fog of gray that lies between worlds,
Sifting through the morose skeletons
That grab me for a ride.
I've crossed their bailiwick, my screams
Are useless now.
Their ivory senescence arms
Crack and creak as they beg from me
Favors I have no affinity to complete.
Their caustic smiles drain the couth
From my spirit, till I've no choice
But to ensoul these ghoulish bones.
They walk away, foppish in style and manner,
They speak with sinister grins and
A breath of hoarfrost chills the sun in my heart.
It is kismet that I dine here,
My legs limped along the dirty grounds,
Kicking up dust and loam along the way.
The clouds of muck, nebulous in feeling,
Force me to succumb to an afterlife of
Haze truculent in feeling.
Escape not imminent, I can only lie down
And sleep as a thousand
Steely feet march across my back.

1-20-11


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Dishabille

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