Every Morning at 9:33 A.M.
Every morning at 9:33 a.m.
‘Til the world shall end
In a dazzle,
In old-fashioned explosions in black & white
When miracles would often happen But billions would still expire.
The alarm is now set for an extra 3 minutes of sleep
Quickly, dreaming in a panic state
When all your fears transform into
Gangland conspiracies planning your public stabbing.
I feel high, so I pray
I feel depressed, so I stay
Locked in trails from living rooms to the kitchen – To the bedroom, then to the bath.
You can hear the streets spit sounds of chaos –
Into your ears
Years of letters fall from the skies – unopened
Full of knowledge and thirst
Full of threads from the brain to the hearse.
Waves of fertile thought
The fog is still displaying this mafia
Broken glass cuts apart – Already wounded mirages
Rainbows that lay bandaged and scarred In a Jekyll and Hyde mentality
Towards the sunlight’s heat and comfort
And then the storm hisses
We enter the rain’s biting lashings.
You have to dig out
With the claws of the banshee
Hope that your bite hasn’t a flavor.
Shed away all the flaky ashes of colour Carve away my meat and leave me as a machine.
A robust smoke leaving the drain.
A blind liquid fades into your skin
Everyone pressures you,
Every bang in the wind haunts you
Every vengeful deity resembles you
In its shout and in its silence Every morning you answer absent When you try to idolize perfection.
photo by Casey Horner