this is just an illusion

you know, when the sun circles
and golden rays of light streak
breaking down the waterfront
from there to eternity and a day,
wow, it's time to come and thank
and praise the moment when we
began and hate was just a pup
and never do the words ever want
to just shut and stop to top the
crawling eye of the fly living on the
edge of insanity and bright lights
in the morning of the beating and
the falling water of the dead beat
more than enough to go around the
chain on your neck holding you bound
black and cloaked in the deceit you
try and portray but really know nothing
not even the mirror of your own face
face to facet of reflected madness
and boiled lobster hands of fate reach
wanting to touch the perfection of
belief and bring again the moment
when the words first kissed the page
of darkened screams of screens
blocking the image want crave in your
mind not to forget what is what's get
begat in the fog of hate and don't
even trying to come and resay all that
growing maggots of decay haunting
the habit never gotten rid of because
with the no life being lived there would
be no life without the mercy of the gods
be damned to hell with sacred cows
and bow to the dawn of enlightenment
knowing that the laughter you hear
is just the echo in your ears of clowns
who bounce and dance with foolish
rants of crawling mutts leading the way.

lacerated