Ribmeat Of The Family Tree

Insipid Inspiration

4-30-05

So much for the light.
There's enough going around
to choke everyone
so I'm not gonna fall all over myself
to see you gag some more.
In general we're all the same
lying, branded surfaces
that no one cares to cut
further into
to expose the truth.
I work harder to hide
so that the fruit
is more satisfying when revealed.
Problem is,
once the oxygen of hurt
contacts its core,
it's become rotten to the touch
and I scream like a sore.
I become a walking metaphor
as a painkiller;
a synonym for pop drama culture's
personally owned starvation.
A wit on a whim whammy
struck down from a tree
only to be stuck on the leaves,
dangling like a worm
from the bird's mouth
that wants to save me
by yelling psychosis
and drowning me out complete.
Put me out of your misery.