knock knock

Weeping gets you nowhere, sitting on the back porch as the day procrastinates. The old wounds won’t close and the sun is in your eyes. The even sos and the at leasts don’t work, no sugar masks the medicine, the grind of this long decline beating bruises into your bones. High crimes of dull impunity are the law of the land, and the worst is coming up fast. Nothing to change that you can change, nowhere to go by nature and station and fiat. Nothing but the words on the page that isn’t there. Nothing but spinning in circles as the stars fall down.

With the evening coming cool at last in this hot summer the motions are attended. With the wind whipping by the trees wave goodbye as the sun stripes the yard. Dirty lenses and cloudy eyes, a keening leaning hard on the facets of the heart. Beaten down to next to nothing, with more beatings guaranteed to get the job done, this is what’s left of the song. Nerves aflame and the shadows stretching, the long night and the aimlessness left of the animal. A cage constantly being rattled and nowhere left to turn.

Who’s there? A monkey’s paw wish of a person. Who’s there? Something between a beast and a joke. Just the cards in the spokes, the kite caught on the wire. A factotum, a clown, a monster to chase out of town. Nothing inside this numb skull to revive the engines. Nothing to look forward to but windows and walls and piss and shit and the sounds of the world falling down all around. Some thing to laugh at while Rome burns. Some thing to poke with sticks until it bangs its head against the bars. Knock knock, here it comes. The punchline to your prayers.