Always Locked

I don't know what i want to do with my life, Do You?!
We're all just spiralling, conspiring against death or maybe
just a shadow or an antcrawling in the coolness while the mold
breaks down matter into itself. That's what I'll do; live my life as the hardenet crust, festered, with the ants struggling to salvage-
for themselves
or someone else
we'll always wonder

why He wore that mask when it wasn't even halloween and no one
really seemed that dead; I guess being forgotten would be
the same - And Oh! Oh! - I still don't know where I'm supposed
to go to waste my hours for dollars that won't amount to much
hanging above our graves, like signs mocking slaves. I drew
a picture of real life and shattered someones glass-eye
because they were afraid to feel-

and I couldn't see why
they'd expect me to slave through the expansive emptiness
of clocks working overtime, like fans on a hot day, and our hands
always moving, sputtering through buttered popcorn on the end
of a ten-foot pole, where a king sits on the opposite side
churning his stomach, as it turns with anticipation and he lights it
with a flame and sends it shining overhead.

The bums slither in their grease-stains across these stone walls,
and the wall's only job is to stand up, so I don't have to
put any effort in, without reward or even bait - What? - is that crawling, ant-like towards the far corner, in a room with no windows, unlocked doors or even light-
switches to find yourself with.

----"Get the Flashlight, we'll find what it is that slouches like
------nsanity across the peripheral of my vision, in tiny black holes
------of reality caught in this net of flesh between vein and muscle
------by bone."
----"YOU'RE insane!" she jests
------then dies, fading into the mist
------of the street, as i close the door
-------still locked, even now...