Round

Back and forth and up and down.
In spirals spinning round and round.
Supposed experts throwing out the bait.
The injured that are made to wait.
Radiating light that brings attention.
Yet through it all, we couldn't find redemption.
Like sailors drifting on a sea of dreams.
Caught within a dessert storm that seems
to tell them life could never be just what they thought.
The intellect still caught in ivory towers.
Experience stays real. We don't need hours.
Clocks ticking down to one more dire destruction.
Scenes from movies playing through the air.
Encoded with computer-like despair.
Death rising in a cobra smile.
Slick and sweet, the crocodiles
keep hiding in the sewers.
As chemicals become the largest stain
of blood upon their well-intentioned hands.
The surgeon stutters as he cuts.
Wondering just what he's doing there.
With faces that show only eyes.
The crew has been anesthetized
and uniformly dressed within the mess.
The curtains close as each of them gets dressed.
The body of the patient that must bleed.
Beyond the cause that can't fulfill the need.
The billing office closes early on.
A web of bankrupt entities are spun.
In patterns that are ordered by the chaos.
We run but then they always start to chase us.
Back and forth and up and down.
In spirals spinning round and round.
While even at the peak,
no peace is found...

? Michaelette ?

10/24/2005
Copyright© 2005 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . .