Miles Away from the Las Vegas Eyeball Two hundred miles walked 5 more miles I must walk I will crawl if I need to To touch the lips of the sunshine To burn with every tear I'll collect my thoughts Hands catching falling stars that leap out of my head - and spin around in the air I have kept a secret for far too long Is it the burn of her skin? (the touch that emits 1,000 songs) She was ripe She was flesh She was beauty Then was death She was blinded by the cold winter's chill She never had the Spring, but sipped the bitter kill All the birds sing her name into my ear They tell me she was the one The one in which all angels thrust in vocal rendezvous Now all alone with curses across my heart There is a hole They will argue, they will bite They will hurt, they will spite They will kick each other down And give into the fears They will be a mushroom cloud hanging over the swans And the miles have yet to be walked To reach my conclusion While the blackjack wizards sway the tourists in at midnight and prostitutes and the gremlin pimps melt in the neon light. Vegas, your eyeballs are bloodshot Your aura is criminal while the dice are thrown into debt after debt. I am a rundown bus riding drifter Time to hide in my secrets I never walked one more mile. and couldn't crawl even when I needed to. Live in the shame like a crying baby As a prosecutor sends me to flames. Available Now: Before I Turn Into Gold Inspired by Leonard Cohen Anthology by David L O’Nan & Contributors w/art by Geoffrey Wren Bending Rivers: The Poetry & Stories of David L O’Nan out now! Current bio for Fevers of the Mind’s David L O’Nan editor/writing contributor to blog. Hard Rain Poetry: Forever Dylan Anthology available today!
Fevers of the Mind 
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