cereal:
My inner troubles muster from mumbles of when
Tussling a tug of war equilibrium
humbled in vent through a jungle of me
judging the demons that speak tongues that are probably just me
trust clutching the dustiest den of my imagination set free
I fight and I claw past raw emotions and sense
oh but for if there was more for poor sorry old me
a silly critter gritting his teeth in the dark stark naked and horny
no penny to the name and dime on my arm
no tattoo sleeves or scars that I can claim as good art
I am the victim beneath the streets and for the stars
a starving artist that hungers for the pains that make the past
I am far beyond repair on a battle marsh of larks
clowns and circus performers in polka dotted camouflage
the stage is set and there is no curtain only stool and mic
I center myself and readjust my tie through the light
*testing,-*testing the crowd is silent as if death was held
then I fall deep within myself, what I project back is pure hell
on a crossroad a soul was stolen, sold and dripped in gold blood
so here I twinkle like the sun had blessed me in bold
but the crowd does not even gasp or move the rock for the mold
as death hugs the air and chugs back its last beer in this flood
STOP..! I say blink your eyes and show me some life
but the people just fade away naked into the dark of the night
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