literature

Barbasol

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Literature Text

Shave my beard with Barbasol, clean my glasses on my sleeve
Dress to impress, black tee and jeans, windwalk to the coliseum
Major impressions in minor chords, the band was disorienting
An orchestra playing Nine Inch Nails; I should have shaved my head

Back home, huddled in a corner eating cat food I had an epiphany
There’s an empty throne waiting somewhere just for me
I am king of the world of elevator shafts and fire escapes
But you told me that long ago, didn’t you? I forget, sometimes

The last song is stuck in my head on a loop, it won’t stop won’t stop
But if I get the right pitch I’ll hit a home run anyway, thank you
How does one bandage a rent brain, a scattered collection of ancient masks?
Why are there so many doors, all bolted from the inside?

The legs of all the chairs need mending, lest you topple and spill your guts
Barbasol, yes that’s the one, even better than Burma-Shave, peachy
Hairless, my entire body smooth, I go lamblike to the yellow kitchen
To see what’s on fire; it’s only my head, and I like it just fine thank you again

I didn’t need the glasses anyway, stolen by dwarves or melted
I walk the planks of the boardwalk and decide how to rule my kingdom
The gulls tell me one thing, the fish have a different theory; I stop
Breathe deeply, put on my hardhat, and go back to work
There's no category for 3:00 am scrawlings...
© 2014 - 2024 Bark
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All-My-Darkness's avatar
As I cannot help but place a  warning lighted
sarcastic sting in many of my pieces tale end

You often have ones such as this.

Breathe deeply, put on my hardhat, and go back to work

I do manage it sometimes like in my 'know the enemy' piece

But you do it more often

And the something admirable in that gathering of guts
to WORK on

Not just walk on