Rumble in the Jungle


Tasting something vile.

And all the while

I deconstruct the nightmare we've been dreaming.

Thinking why these tears stay streaming.

Is it my fault

For applying meaning to something demeaning?

For all my faces that you've lit,

At times you make me sick with vomit fits.

And so I've learned to sing your song -

A star that shines and burns

Has been a black hole in disguise.

And in these ways I learn

The endless bottom to your pride.


With a trickle of some weightless complications

Running through your veins.

Thinnest shadow painted doesn't offer much salvation

For the the hopelessly inane.

So shed it now...

To the floor...

Tap your naked dance

On all these wooden boards -

Since turned metal at your touch

From all the liquid steel that courses through your blood -

That silver stare that makes Medusa blush.

For every story that you spin is worthy of mythology.

But who can hide your cancerous pathology?

Your very etymology is rooted in a fruitless verb.

But if I could kick sickness to the curb

And cast your bitter vice aside,

Then I would soon untangle every word

And split your soul in five

To pinpoint where your insecurity does hide.

So hold your faceless grudge.

And show me just how tasteless you've become -

Hanging on to thinning strings that dangle from the sun

But stay too weak to climb.

Let it go, dear god, and you will find -

For every vine you throw into my jungle

In attempts to stop my dance,

You're better off not starting rumbles.

You don't stand a goddamn chance...

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