[Written about being led on and controlled by higher forces]
Bird-limbs, these avian things
Bending over backwards, burrowing into my worry lines
And I lived in, lived in wedding rings,
Jammed into the unnerved, my wings, as we drop into the skies

How harrowing! That I do not possess any fingers I can use to point
That you refuse to preen over my conscious self for the weakness in our joints
Dreaming of unspilt milk and
Sex without rhythm. Yes, sex
without rhythm.

Knee bends, shoved down throats
Wording becomes diffused, hear the sugar, shove out money for the salt
Letters never sent, parading golden scapegoats
Into shanty towns to ruse, common senses chaperone all your faults

Fucking around! Yeah! You’re our king of inconvenience straddling the chase
Put us to sleep in our confinement playpens made of recycled human waste
Dreaming of an even utopia but
I live in dogmatica. Yes, bark bitch bark.
Clipped wings can’t fly.



© Hazim Haemoglobin 2012



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