Black Hole Cockroach

The final cog in the cosmic machine
A fragment of a dream
Discarded and scarred
Beyond any hope of survival
The screw in the gut tightens
Tightens to the breaking point
While the flesh, muscle, tendons scream
A wordless sound from a black hole for a mouth
Conversations scurry like cockroaches
In a kitchen with a sudden inflow of light
When the focus is on the size of the dog
No one wonders about the bite
Delusions float on the surface of this lake
This sordid collections of thoughts and memories
Light up the fire, fan the flames
With broken lies and unbelievable stories
Should have listened to the shaman
Should have heeded the spirits
Should have cared more for which way the wind blew
Should have given a little bit of shit

----------
Lockdown has me slinging words together that make no sense. Or do they?

again

here we are again
my friend
words on the pages
words in the wind
digital detritus
words on my skin
words in my bones
virtual voodoo
words in my lungs
words on my tongue
binary benedictions
words from my eyes
words in my lies
cyberpunk circus
words words words
spinning in a circle
a medley of madness
incomprehensible mess
if i could, i would confess
to this fuckery
this perverted suckery
to make no sense
but just say things
where meaning is lost
like a child in a strip club
if i could, i would
shoot down a cherub