The Spirit Welder

Thirteen pills of Babylon,
And yet I feel lost and alone,
I wish for raindrops to turn into bombs,
And I wish for these missiles to guide me home

Aurora licks my silver wounds,
With her silent rainbow lies - stoic and hollow,
If this Sisyphean trail’s end were in sight,
What’d I regurgitate and what would I swallow?

I often search for splinters of truth,
In the noir dreams of test-tube babies,
And I find myself casting sparkling reflections,
In the deserted eyes of coyotes with rabies

I fall in love with mannequins of wood,
And propound anachronistic theories of marriage,
And upon the death of my reasons to sing,
I blame my mother for her false miscarriage

So put your gas mask on, O spirit welder,
And disassemble me part-by-part,
I’m a clockwork automaton in this digital age,
No microchips are embedded in my unyielding heart.



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