Vampire Funnel in a Chrysalis Bubble

Vampire Funnel in a Chrysalis Bubble

Maybe I will have the words for you tomorrow

This saucer of content time swirls around the minutest of apertures

Center to the bottom of this held plate like a funnel

With its intricate pattern of gold leaf and royal blue Dalton rings

There is a fluttering azure spattered in the appendage

Of dissension draining my failure to mention

My concerns that you even exist resting there like a permanent hole in the hold

Of everything I pretend could be your role in this production of assumptions

The commotion of atonement that precedes the whole bit

To act out and cast doubt on when youth bleeds into a middle age

Deranged on the choices that stake like prison tenements

Raised and roped up free to leave and yolk drunk to this life

Like busted ladder rungs climbed down into a crevice and can not get up

Like a mistake prone vampire waiting for the moon to fire shade into the sun

I am here at the nadir of this hole bartering Christianity for the brink of sanity

Coming clean between the means of viewing this air as opportunity

To carve out my own community descended but not distended

In the rapture of the moment of singularity froths about an abundance of clarity

That the moon will soon depart and all the letters of dawn

Will not have to bleed this heart dry like a monster in peril

Holding on to the mythology of what cements me to the devil

Of disinterest like a skunk from me to all to all to me, God in a plea

For help for this hell that can not foresee an exit to the means

Of prison bars in children’s arms breaking in peace and incapable of the means

To self substantiate wanting nothing and everything lost and caked

In the mud of all these mistakes, doing time in a mannequin’s maze

No distance to the gate, it is right in front my eyes, but I have no working legs

Paralyzed from the neck high, knowing running off is not about atoning

For mistakes to love in the wrong grade, should have known the sounds of disrespect

Like a taxi cab that should have left the doorstep darting off with no regrets

But I bartered for a life in strife wanting a stitching to the mat of knowing alone is not the stack

Of cards I chose to play, knowing all these diamonds are now traded for spades

Digging and digging the funnel to this way of living spiral and viral

Alone and the bridal gown is boxed up and yellow in a catacomb of former homes

Cavern away and all I can pray for is a night mare to saddle my cowboy dreams upon

To ride me out of here in a calm blackness to blanket all this static background

Into a muted replay that need not create a buffer soon to funnel up into a butterfly

Nosferatu caterpillar chrysalis bubble broken and there we fly, dirty wings and I am clean