Monster Monk

Wizard in the weeping morning Lost inside a pillbox And a lighter with a smile Like a cat beneath the train tracks And a bleeding embryo within the burning corpse of reason Laying feeble on the metal grates Like solitude And Mr. Misery becomes Mr. Mystery And lost is the Miser in the mist For the mister mists the Mr. And the miss is too great to go undocumented Since the sad condition of the octopus hanging limp and cold from its own tentacle Creates an ambience unmatched by incense and blacklights Swiftly slicing carpet fibers Silently Like a morgue And an ancient blade of camera flashing Blindness And a jump from point A to B With the world beneath And the world above And a bleeding empty uterus Hanging like a messenger bag In the rich comedy of the dying light and the eternal night