Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god

Snaggled

They talk and talk...
The crazy slips in and out
And divides by zero
While I surf the clouds
looking for the golden sun
That will tarnish the woods.
When I tire, I will sleep
And perhaps a thousand paces
Forward will I fall into the
Dream of hugging married men
Which makes no sense to me.
While I dazzle them with
My snaggle-toothed grin
And slanted humor,
I'll be walking the dead like dogs
That need to piss.
They smell of beautiful things,
Like regret and terror,
Fear and idiocy but I loved them
Like little bastard children that I
Knew the state would
Eventually take away.
They talk and talk...
I let them, their lips are black and
Rotten, eager words
Fall from their gray teeth and
No longer do I listen for the gurgle of
Their dying moral.
Instead, I pick up the phone and
Notice is hasn't rung in years
And laugh gleefully because I'm winning and
I always win.

3-14-11


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Snaggled

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