An offering to a braver coward.

You bleed out
a thousand problems
on borrowed paper, your pen wearied
as you try to explain
you're ready.

We interrupt this broadcast
to bring you a technicolour prayer.

Every man, ordinary man, extraordinary man.
Stomps through this wasteland at some time.
You will see the horrors I created
I instigated.
On a barren road to nirvana
you will find the bottles, the others left behind in their haste, to lay waste to their pain, a nuclear fallout
of pharmaceutical wastes
their one stop poison trip
to nowhere.
Primed for flight,
Your baggage weighs heavy on your mind, for thoughtless
bloodshed.
you look to your left shoulder
and there he waits
the little fucker
that part of your conscious
who can tell you a tale
of wife and child
defenceless
distraught
alone.
You look to your right, and sanitys Satan speaks volumes of fresh escape.
You can hear left
over
sneers, fucked up fears of your own filthy race.
You wait in the moment, amid the idiocy
hypocrisy
insanity
Of a forgott-tt-tt....

The static crackles as you flicker in-between
escapism is not the cure.
Gun in mouth.
feed back.

Not enough to save the noise.
A headful of memories paints the wall.
You freefall
through every shade of black,
diving into the honeycomb hive
of mother earths cold embrace.
A baby again in wooden womb.
Reconstructed shadows
little comfort to those you destroyed, in your selfish escape.
I hope you're happy.

Break through the rubble,
you coward
and say
Amen.