Weak lengthy ties of abnormal adjustments,
Contemplating and all unseeingly defying,
Painted face of false protection.
In need of a serious resurrection.
Loving tug and war, muscle tingling,
Crookedness of feverish proportions and
Pure extension of master’s pleasure lavish in pure desire.
Somewhere and somehow put a end to this inferno of pure fire.
Dangling endlessly and floating motionlessly,
A puppet of surreal reality,
Lacking that of the human mentality.
Freedom of illusion,
A current state of blindness,
No certain presence of kindness.
A crowd placid and unnervingly still,
Like that small jagged little pill.
Self-puppeteer of blind admiration,
Exceeding levels of all human aspiration.
You’re my beginning certainly my end,
A constant mind game,
Your unyielding experimentation of a luke warm fascination.
You play on…and on…and on to a deafening crowd of murderous applause.
Did the puppet master have probable cause?
You have become a pure nightmare,
A taunting and vicious cycle,
Mistaken for a blissful dream,
A sweet and innocent surrender much too extreme.
Gazing over a faceless auditorium,
Feeling like this is a crematorium.
Stained light beaming across the black sea stage,
Arms extending desperately reaching for help,
Releasing the ever binding object attached to this puppet wood stained back,
Collapsing hard, bones clapping together to the black sea stage,
Resonating like an empty cage.
Empty and fleeting strength,
Inching farther away from arm’s length.
Laughs of devilish proportion,
Like a bodily induced abortion.
Ultimate and absolute obedience the puppet master demands,
Never having a clue to how much the puppet does not understand.
This circus continues to roll on,
Alas all too much forgone,
The show must go on.
Copyright © Seleta Harvey 2013