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.