The clock strikes;
hands raised in token defiance
as time lays down its arms
and surrenders me,
deliverance beyond the pale
to the compromised land
of shade-succulent reverie.

In the heat of the moment
a split second explodes
spraying minute details
across the narcoleptic gape
of rapidly dissolving reason.

A fractured temporal body
hangs itself in celebration
and smiles an eternity;
life lumbers languorous
before my vacant eyes.

I scrutinize its contradictions
with a passion that oozes impropriety,
probing its fissures
as it fellates my lobes;
thus newly disengaged lovers
slither the psychopathology
of moral amnesia.

A distant present stirs
to drown its siren squeal
in a puddle of predestiny,
the irony submersed by ripples
awash with stagnant secretions.

I am caught between punk rock
and a wall of petrified excrement,
perverse hopes and pervasive fears
competing for distinction
in the dead-zone of denial.

In an instant, time reinstates
the vacuum of conflict,
raises its arms to fire
semi-automatic rounds of conscience
that pass over my head
for burial in analysis.

I clock myself in;
everything is as it was
a moment ago--or was that yesterday?
I check my pulse...

08/28/2006

Posted on 08/28/2006
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