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Hexed

Cursed

Slaughtered by the verse of mutagens,

Actions answered

in high pitch frequencies

bouncing off brain waves

and FM radios,

Sliced

Priced

Packaged by the pound of flesh

Cut from the cuff of our sleeves

or the sweat of our brow

Boiled in honey oil

Gilded and adorned,

Collapsing in a rice patty

with blisters ear to ear

hearing shotguns ring out

but it always goes to voicemail messaging

for the massacre to listen to later,

The feeling of solid cold fingers coupled with

dead ice crystals

form on the ends of nails

that are bit to the nub in anxious waiting,

Where the do-gooders grow sin

I bathe my limbs

washing deeds from cavaties

you never knew existed,

you watch wait and wonder

what's going to pour out next

Hexed

Cursed

Let this auditorium be our ministry

while we audition the newbies

still wearing brass buttons

bottle necked into liesure suits

smelling strickly sickly but healthy enough

to fully respirate in nauseum,

I've wondered these things

I've watched from a far as a voyeur

never to voyage into the lightning storm

I regrettably call my life