Wednesday, October 31, 2012

A City to Mourn

Allen Masterson

As geometrical graffiti blankets the sacred city I built,
ultraviolet fur coats my tongue and adds accent to words 

formulated under duress of self realization as the grand facade is 
lifted off my biological operating system, allowing Om to put the root down

Undertows of a simulated life activate a gag reflex; making it 

difficult to choke down the terror found in physical reflections that mock my delusions.
Saliva seeks a cavity to hide the DNA sequence mutating a frantic universe in milliseconds, 
trading the comfort of routine, for a dip into oblivion.

Crowds of mouths once tasted gather to mourn the possibilities
lost to a broken helix, battered by the winds of hostile egos, and
sharing deceit like sweet treats between apathetic diabetics
who've lost interest in anything which has to do with what's next

I find I'm not alone, in this city that has no home...

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