Belay

The skeleton of the world shakes hands
With the chortled mill of societal strands
And the white lady in white and blue
Passes, waving a brown briefcase anew
She gives you a drop of the dew
When you knock a man dead
Inside of you

You stand in queues seeking soul heal
The box speaks with mysterious names
You are cleansed, the water banes
The sins of man and goldish dames
When you’re shamed for being sane
Brandish your firing soul
Let’s hit that bowl.

And suddenly you see flashing
Of the stars of some nether way
Amidst smoking snails sliding
Across squeamish rainbows of the day
And orbits of gas and hay
With all of you far away
With all of you far away

But if you float across the deep blue sea
With a boat made from fur
And honey from cotton bees
With paddles shining through a night of slur
You row and row and row and row
When the slouching dark figure takes you low
And your insides house broken glass shards
Shattered periodically with the tunes from afar
Will they come and get you up
Up to their house, up the hall
Will you see the glow through the pitch black wall
Where light and shadow hits and hauls
To form a molten black liquid fall
And you try to climb out of it all
But you trip and fall

The current cuts through your veins
And the blade of your back screams with pain
The whirlpool pulls you closer and closer
To its heart and warmth of its froth
But you swim out into the mouth
Of a giant stone crocodile
Which eats you full
And sleeps with a drool

You hear the echoes of a land
Beckoning you, extending a hand
You gently slip and fall away
And you hear them shout
“We caught one, belay.”

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