Life in complication
my step’s fallen back
backstepping all the sorrow of this twisted metal
when all your friends are caught hanging in the cracks.
Chains broken from daily rust and routine testing of the links.
So much is there to bleed from the hemorage of an attempt to think.
Helpless with heavily ripped muscle, from all that has been torn apart.
Take the risks.
The reckoning of reckless behavior leaves youth stranded.
Though, looking at past days, the only thing I can safely advocate is reckless abandon.
Shoot this up into your veins: poetic energy that kills addiction to anything else.
I’d tell you it makes you feel alive, but the rush leaves no room to check for pulse.
Thorns, they stick in
pushes ice cold sin to boil over as punker screams out a way to sing.
No need to preach to me.
You are no prophet, but I forever appreciate what you have fought to teach,
and that, I bleed.
An educated artist is not a leach.
I pierced my tongue tonight…
Just to feel the sensation,
and out of curiousity of gazing at the pained physical alterations.
By MIKE PHELAN O’TOOLE