Saturday, May 28, 2011

Memoir of Degenerates

by Matthew Dexter

I’m the only one with the key,
The old don’t understand and the young will never know,
But both tell me to open that door,
Crawl down with the spiders into the fragmented cellar labyrinth
Where the spiral staircase like a ring that descends into darkness
A circus, you've rehearsed this a million times in your head
Psychosis breeze blows embers of egg sacks into your retinas
As air cools and you can smell a flatulence of fairy kings
Polluting the airways they meander through hairy nostrils and beyond
The light of tomorrow there waits a man in invisible cape waiting
To Strike you in the face with a magic wand the generations will never understand

And as the floor shakes he will molest your crumbled body
Oddly cuddling you against the wet earth the voices will chant
The young will be old and crippled; the elderly will be infants,
The distance is merely a mirage of different illusions in the mind,
And you are the leader; they will follow if you take them there.

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