Untitled

Walking down Main Street.
I take a left to met Fear.
I stumble on the pavement.
To fall and hurt my splintered soul.

Standing I spin, round,and round.
To become a rotting figure in a cyclone.
Where's the eight-point stop?
How do I get off this trip?

Everything swirls and rises.
A jerking moment and then the ride ends.
A voice on the speaker says,
"This dream is over.It's time to begin again."

I struggle to break free.
All these hands are on me.
The Shaman prays over this disaster.
I break free, run away into the sun.

To come upon a highway.
Leading to the mouth of the snake.
Like shattered glass the sun plays.
I walk along the desert in Chaos's daze.

A mirage, floating on the highway.
The king of this American dream.
With his hand reaching toward me.
I see the bloodied carved number.

Twenty-Seven?
Is this were we end.
In the desert of life.
With a king bleeding form the wound in his head.

Tell me, my ancient ones.
The day began as most days do.
With a lie of peace.
But in the end, I see the bodies,
strewn across this highway.

This is the end.
The Highway of Death.
With a black clad King.
Reaching for me.