Angel Beard - text
I see colors racing down the walls at me
—inching toward me like road before me;
broken stripes and contiguous lines forming
in colors of yellow and black.
All my life I’ve dreamed of telling stories
—ones like on the silver screen.
Mystery is right on top of my list.
They come out as real life or dreams.
I’m looking out. I see the world
—each cloud lined in silver.
Now I’m sitting down. I’m out in the world.
These days even the clouds have friends.
Looks to me like Mario: hat, mustache, and all
—legs no longer than his head.
Silver breaking down, fading into white light.
They’re playing hide and seek again.
Sitting in my chair I find it hard to move.
At times I forget I’m dreaming.
Like all good things this will come to an end.
Wait, now another begins.
Back in the room where this whole thing started,
those gathered outside cannot hear.
Living their reality, I’m living mine.
Time it moves on free and clear.
Little red bugs where are you going?
You should have been there.
on rivet red ‘cause you’re burning.
When can’t find nervous system make no sound.
Synchronized, I’m mesmerized
watching intently though your demise.
All left in panic stricken mode, they were.
- Cry for Help
- Angel Beard
- Still Breathing
- Not Myself