Black Rebel Motorcycle Club Ask iAN * Where the garden ends…. .*

Ask iAN

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Ask iAN * Where the garden ends…. .*

Where the garden ends...and the blood boils to a slow...dries up and flakes away like mulched speckled autumnal leaves...

Just when i thought my skin was tough enough to swing from the hooks
the bird shells collapse in my chest
Sick of running below the Cancerous thumb of God's magnifying instument
and there is nowhere to storm off to...a dead legion quaking in their graves deep in the conclaves of my chest cavity
flat tire, rotten tooth, eyes akin to dry wells
my life spilling out across the land like blood seeds taken to dry spells

I hold on as I let go
embracing the invisible damocles sword that swings above my nowhere head
a dragonfly face to face with a firing pin
a baby bunny in a ball peen hammer world 
I don't want your power land grab money clippership disney ticket harlot thicket sportscar pickaxe smiles
let me sink in the moss green albatross clawed water where the dead dive in deep for their dead

I've got 100 things to do
as these talks we have train my boots to move
in slow motion

I can't keep anything
losing it all seems only fair
what my eyes covet my mind releases
what my body touches floats out into the distance
where my fingers reach
there is God's empty seat
where my spirit yearns to be
there is a locked exit door and several road blocks
every kiss i ever recieved or gave has
fallen onto the pavement
for better or for worse
it doesn't really matter

I dust off this leather jacket and walk like a bruised  feline back into the woods for more punishment
there's nowhere left to run
the search party has fallen asleep in it's own grave
my home is where the devil hustles it's scratch
battery acid and red roses
i drip down the leg that ate
the pill
last time.... .*
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