Saturday, August 12, 2017

Between the Sword and the Wall

Between the Sword and the Wall

Nobody likes to be between 
the sword and the wall.

When you're in that trance 
life tastes like vinegar.

When you knock on a door 
your ass opens.

If you scream for help 
its sharp blades answer,

fragments forming
an unspeakable monster.

You're alive and you're dead,
you're awake and dreaming.

You look at your opponent, 
who is the guardian of your balance,

beg him not to weigh you
but he puts you on his plate.

Your heart and gut, dust and horror. 
While the sky shines, your picture

darkens.  The wall closes
like theatre curtains. 

Your Act is over.
The drinks are on me.

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