(Genesis)

There is lambswool under my naked feet,

The wool is soft and warm,

Gives off some kind of heat.

A salamander scurries into flame to be destroyed.

Imaginary creatures are trapped in birth on celluloid.

The fleas cling to the golden fleece,

Hoping they’ll find peace.

Each thought and gesture are caught in celluloid.

There’s no hiding in my memory.

There’s no room to void.

The crawlers cover the floor in the red ochre corridor.

For my second sigh of people, they’ve more lifeblood than Before.

They’re moving. They’re moving in time to a heavy wooden Door,

Where the needle’s eye is winking, closing on the poor.

The carpet crawlers heed their callers;

“We’ve got to get in to get out

We’ve got to get in to get out.”

There’s only one direction in the faces that I see;

It’s upward to the ceiling, where the chamber’s said to be.

Like the forest fight for sunlight, that takes root in every tree,

There are pulled up by the magnet, believeing they’re free.

The carpet crawlers heed their callers;

“We’ve got to get in to get out

We’ve got to get in to get out.”

Mild mannered supermen are held in kryptonite,

And the wise and foolish virgins giggle with their bodies glowing bright.

Through the door a harvest feast is lit by candlelight;

It’s the bottom of a staircase that spirals out of sight.

The carpet crawlers heed their callers;

“We’ve got to get in to get out

We’ve got to get in to get out.”

The porcelain mannikin with shattered skin fears attack.

The eager pack lit up their pitchers – they carry all they lack.

The liquid has congealed, which has seeped out through the Crack.

And the tickler takes his sticleback.

The carpet crawlers heed their callers;

“We’ve got to get in to get out

We’ve got to get in to get out.”

Leave a comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *