Cattle Raid

Cattle Raid

What do I do at the end of this race?

But fall down under the cattle hoofs

Be trampled and find a fresh need to exhume

The carcasses of my demons like morbid classmates

To torment me in between alien parts of speech

Like breathing deeply with a sigh that there is no relief and

Only one monster remaining and he is a denizen of my insides

With thrusting charcoal horns flush in dust spray confetti

A party to my nadir of the apocalyptic realization of the ultimate absence

There is an overtone for the overture to blanket all with a stark impure

Coating as if the lie was too large it acts as a moat that keeps emoting

The stand back, the wait there, here come the electric shock heart spasms

To keep us there in the blanked out, cold world dying daily

In the fish bowl, gaping mouths and stuck maws, eating regurgitated

Rationales though commercial speckled feeding tubes with a long pause

To suck it in, the lonely mass, the beaten down social class

Divorced, segregated nation of unspoken depression manifestation

Of what could have been, of we wish we did, of shot down hopes

Of never was, of roads truncated, of always will be a life castrated

Might as wells of wanting answers and going to sleep incapacitated

And fixing broken dreams with numb tools, a lonely ghost enslaves fools

Attempting to connect humbly in this universe, cremated while still alive

Hoping that we had a better alibi than love, jester of the court, with busted

Knuckles from punching all our fights out to surrender to this marathon

To escape for the cattle raid, excite the first one and let the fever spread

Got madcow disease infected zombie bovine brains for heads

On the rampage bust down the buildings, trample all the runners

No body is safe in all this tremble December race that never ends

Until it does and bones are smashed in granules and blood is spilling

Swimming pool size test tubes for the taking for the cow hell bell that is

Raining in a cacophony of dissonance that there is no permission

Only taking and all those that paused to ask, are now steam rolled in their path

Of mother f’ing cow rage a mad cow posse on the death-page

Signed up for number one, your day is done son