| What are you doing here? What do you want? Is it music? We can play music. But you want more. You want something & someone new. Am I right? Of course I am. You want ecstasy Desire & dreams. Things not exactly what they seem. I lead you this way, he pulls that way. I'm not singing to an imaginary girl. I'm talking to you, my self. Let's recreate the world. The palace of conception is burning. Look. See it burn. Bask in the warm hot coals. You're too young to be old You don't need to be told You want to see things as they are. You know exactly what I do Everything |
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| Look where we worship. |
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| The assassin's bullet Marries the King Dissembling miles of air To kiss the crown. The Prince rambles in blood. Ode to the neck That was groomed For rape's gown. |
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| Photo-booth killer fragile bandit straight from ambush Kill me! Kill the child who made Thee. Kill the thought-provoking senator of lust who brought you to this state. Kill hate disease warfare sadness Kill badness Kill madness Kill photo mother murder tree Kill me. Kill yourself. Kill the blind little elf. |
| THE POETRY OF JAMES DOUGLAS MORRISON |
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