Tuesday, October 29, 2024

Paint My Paper Face

Paint My Paper Face
© Surazeus
2024 10 29

The red sun beats upon the pavement slab 
with all the subtle grace of hammer hope 
preached by the scammer in the crowded church 
to lonely zombies searching for the truth 
that drips from their limp hands as jelly slime, 
so I hide bright soul with my paper face. 

This heart-encroaching angst of city streets 
still numbs my aching body with desire 
to crawl into the dead tree in the park 
and talk with crows about the demon mind 
that gurgles oil-thick in sponge of my brain 
and seeps through paper face hiding my soul. 

Harsh grumbling growl of motor engines buzz 
disturbing vibes in fractured skull of juice 
that helmets deity stuck in my brain 
writhing crab-twisted in tangle of thoughts 
with muffled bonking deep in foggy words 
mucked with visions of the paper-faced god. 

So one step forward on hard cement way 
I force extension of my rubber soul, 
wrapped taut with tension of unsymboled lust 
forward over rough obstacles of faith, 
to walk from my house to the grocery store 
beyond paper-faced walls of memories. 

So when you call me on the telephone 
I answer with the name my brain devised 
to fool Death with shadow of happy fear, 
yet I can barely hear your crackled voice 
from distant valley of the laughing bones 
because my paper face flaps in the wind. 

Insistent explanations of my strength 
of courage to perform expected role 
bunch crowd of breathless words refidgeted 
in graceful flow of sentient awkwardness 
so I despair that no one understands 
vivid flare of thoughts on my paper face. 

Performing normal routine of events 
in rituals to contain chaos of hope, 
I stand before glass door of timeless trust 
to open candor wide of changeless wait 
so I can enter cool domain of dreams 
enclosed in fragments of things I could buy. 

Purchasing milk, eggs, butter, bread, and faith, 
I swipe thin credit card of honesty 
and walk outside with plastic bags of love 
to glare at red sun of blind travesty, 
then hurry home on nervous doe-thin legs 
to eat fried eggs and paint my paper face. 


1 comment:

  1. Orpheus describes to Ophelia his epic quest to the grocery store in the kaleidoscope city of undulating concepts.

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