Gasping into a broken silence
The night Stuffed like a razor filled piñata
And of the Scenario All God’s monkeys
They couldn’t stop throwing shit at my ego
Tarred and feathered my skin needed her aloe kisses the next day
But In her absence I turned onto a bloody puddle left from my own heart

Walking into the latter half of day,
They stood surrounded
Like king tut and his stupid processions to bring to the afterlife
How decorated can you make the roof above your head
Before it falls
Top heavy
And useless

Scalpels pulled the brain from my skull
And the ego was missing
So rising pupils came to view
Only to wave a mocking goodbye
To plastic existence and The world in which I was an original thought
Amongst The monkeys
Amongst the apes scratching their asses at a picture
Portrait of my mind
In the national museum of madness

08/02/2009

Posted on 08/02/2009
Copyright © 2025 Timothy Wilson