Neither Rose Garden Kisses or Scarlet Obsession Seem to go with this dress tonight.

 

My lips burn with foetal betrayals. 

 

There are no vacant looms

Where I can weave my words.

I choke on the protests

In my steamy esophogaus.

 

I still see the bursts in the hot sky

And silently exult at when I became a foreigner. Who stole my passport?

The City of Angels or the City of Rusted Dreams?

 

Thorazined zombies of the Venetian harlequins

 

He hath not where to lay his head

Because only the sacred heart can

Rest in the dawn of now,

Sing in the here of eternity.

 

Perpetual virus we call time

And make a home for the lost.

The frequency of patience

The jaws of life.