the words come slowly

buried in a
barrage of
thoughts
confusions
distractions
dillusions
instructions
obstructions...
...bullshit

the morning brings pain

i see you there
i turn and hide

locked up inside
overheated
moving parts melted together
thought that i could weather
the storm
formulate logical answers
from data amassed...
the fool looks for logic
uncovers chaos
at every turn
gets burned
at every turn
looks for learning
turns
steps back reeling
spirit
in need of healing
reaches out
bleached and dried
in the sun...

july breathes it's heat
across our brows once more
smiling prophets peddling candy
under flashing skies that pour
and the more i learn
the less i see
howling mobs of
zombies of love
run cunning jobs of confidence on the masses
sunday morning more masses
masses of masses
god's vicar on earth
reposed in splendor
wine in golden chalice
bread on golden tray
and at the very same time
and not so very far away
babies moan
and bloat
and die
somebody's grandmother fries up some dogfood
innocents are jailed and killed
as robber barons run free

it all makes little sense to me...