popsadie
Acrobat
The Ether
I grew sick.
Exhausted by all the programmed tongues
Repeating sound lacking sense
Blaring scripts which feigned light and hope
But only bandaged my tears and gashes
So I didn’t just let go. I unlatched every tether.
Each fractured rope- every sweet scented deceit
I hoped to unearth all my buried bliss
To capture joy in my disillusion
But now I’m writhing here in the ether- clawing the air
Grasping for any unraveled string
A thread of sex, guns, or god
Any strand of a religion, old or new
So please, just give me some talking heads
I need a golden calf to bow down to
Cause anything, anything, has to be better
Than writhing and clawing out here in the ether.
I grew sick.
Exhausted by all the programmed tongues
Repeating sound lacking sense
Blaring scripts which feigned light and hope
But only bandaged my tears and gashes
So I didn’t just let go. I unlatched every tether.
Each fractured rope- every sweet scented deceit
I hoped to unearth all my buried bliss
To capture joy in my disillusion
But now I’m writhing here in the ether- clawing the air
Grasping for any unraveled string
A thread of sex, guns, or god
Any strand of a religion, old or new
So please, just give me some talking heads
I need a golden calf to bow down to
Cause anything, anything, has to be better
Than writhing and clawing out here in the ether.