07-24-2013, 10:12 PM
Colonic dark wynds, city-black alleyways,
ensconce and absorb those consumed by their lives;
sack-wrapped and trapped like societal garbage,
sliding like stools through their sweet syringed days.
Chill shivers them all, vile blood-bound botulus;
yet comatose they lie.
Look long into shadows where eyes peer unseeing.
Listen, and hear their doleful dolors.
The rasping song of cellophane cockling:
lungs crackling while sucking on the teat of dank air.
Nightmares rise up into throats scarred by screaming;
in times like these they die.
Do not lie close, let distance protect you
from traffic that crawls Peristaltic Highway.
Enuresis breaches in each writhing bundle,
so rise up, you beauties, to the unceasing call.
This is a destiny none would believe in;
except for you and I.
tectak
Middlesborough 2002
Original
The stench of dark colonic wynds, city-black alleys of waste,
ensconce and shelter the vile and the fallen.
They are sack-wrapped and bagged, societal garbage, asleep in a trance
of blank syringed days. Wet and decayed, with their blood-threatened bodies,
they are chilled into comas of hidden despair.
Look quickly and side-wise into shadows, where but for the darkness
could be seen in their eyes, tears of gratitude; assaulting vistas,
threaten by closeness to you and your kind, so that distance becomes
the shield, the protection. Do not linger or look on the lost or their lives
but walk in your sleep, and sleep like the blind.
Listen! Hear lungs, through crackling congestion, broken by silence
of Death on the prowl. They live on their highway, glass-broken, tin-rattled,
cat-littered, flesh-rotted, waste-strewn and piss-sodden.
Enuresis dreams in each tossing bundle; deaf or dead, the unheeded prod.
So sleep-walk my beauties, 'til the wakening call.
Tectak
2012
ensconce and absorb those consumed by their lives;
sack-wrapped and trapped like societal garbage,
sliding like stools through their sweet syringed days.
Chill shivers them all, vile blood-bound botulus;
yet comatose they lie.
Look long into shadows where eyes peer unseeing.
Listen, and hear their doleful dolors.
The rasping song of cellophane cockling:
lungs crackling while sucking on the teat of dank air.
Nightmares rise up into throats scarred by screaming;
in times like these they die.
Do not lie close, let distance protect you
from traffic that crawls Peristaltic Highway.
Enuresis breaches in each writhing bundle,
so rise up, you beauties, to the unceasing call.
This is a destiny none would believe in;
except for you and I.
tectak
Middlesborough 2002
Original
The stench of dark colonic wynds, city-black alleys of waste,
ensconce and shelter the vile and the fallen.
They are sack-wrapped and bagged, societal garbage, asleep in a trance
of blank syringed days. Wet and decayed, with their blood-threatened bodies,
they are chilled into comas of hidden despair.
Look quickly and side-wise into shadows, where but for the darkness
could be seen in their eyes, tears of gratitude; assaulting vistas,
threaten by closeness to you and your kind, so that distance becomes
the shield, the protection. Do not linger or look on the lost or their lives
but walk in your sleep, and sleep like the blind.
Listen! Hear lungs, through crackling congestion, broken by silence
of Death on the prowl. They live on their highway, glass-broken, tin-rattled,
cat-littered, flesh-rotted, waste-strewn and piss-sodden.
Enuresis dreams in each tossing bundle; deaf or dead, the unheeded prod.
So sleep-walk my beauties, 'til the wakening call.
Tectak
2012