Out Of Real

I want out of real

I want to become the ultimate

The God of autism

Move across silent dark water

The icey sea of my mind

Let there be light by my command

I am flesh made god

The word of god

I am the God of Words

I will not rest on the seventh day

In my universe I do what I want

Even if a host of angels should rise up

And my Chosen Ones crucify me

My will would prevail

I would sweep the treasonous

The whole mutinous Holy Horde

To banishment in caverns of Ice and Fire

I would hang on the cross of the Chosen

But I would not die for a thousand years

My living body slowly rotting

As I babble every dark secret that ever shamed

In a speed-rap shriek

I'd scream it all for a millenium

And there would be legends of a crucified god

Who would not die

And he wouldn't shut up, either!

Then I would loose those I had cast down

Set them upon the cities

Set them upon the land, the very Garden

And the stalks of wheat would fall

So when I have that far-away look

Don't bump me or try to rouse me

Never say to me 'penny for your thoughts'

Believe me, you really don't want to know

And you DO NOT WANT to get inside my head

Try getting in your own

Try to get through that crazy cat's-cradle

To scramble through the bramble of coping strategies

You mistake for personality

And if you find a center that cannot hold

You better get rough and shuffle

And about the flashes at the edge of sight

Or were you the whispers?

Doesn't matter

I think maybe I've really, like

Hey, who said a god has to practice what he preached?

And that's why you'd like to give it a try

Isn't it?

Remember though

Even a god should have a care

So be careful in there

Go ahead . . . I dare you

for l. jean 

25 September, 1997

perris