Twenty First Century Pickle

20 First Century Pickle

My belly is full, dull satisfaction met
Bloodstream quenched, buzzing softly
Gaping pyramids ogle my pockets
A momentum of the id, a loose contentment
Light euphoria overwhelms the senses
Wandering ghosts toll the division bell
Dread is summoned
Slow yes slow, hiding, peeking, eventual though
Damnation of a condescending actualization


Riposte

Ingredients of tortured, bastardized Youth
Coddle fantasies, fairy tails, and pipe dreams
Buoyant vassal bound uninterrupted spiritual ebb
Fertile seed, poisoned, cared for by vultures
Wrapped in a warm blanket, took by thieves
Trance form robot, freewill Pavlov'ed way
Cradle of filth in glorious decay.

-Matthew James Lipinski


10-7-07



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