ATTACK of the MUSHROOM PEOPLE

I wish I had no dreams to remember
no past experiences to dwell on
an un-photographic memory
hands that did not so clearly map out the past
a past of faces, and feelings, and feet
(the 3 Fs)
sometimes i wish i were a werewolf
on a successful search for a silver bullet
not one of those new CG types
but the kind like Oliver Reed
or Paul Naschy or Lon Chaney Jr.
the ceilings in here, like rainbows, seem to lead to nowhere real
like the words and the phrases that come and go
without a logical pattern
chaos maybe
or schizophrenia
or maybe chaos
I’m a two-headed freak sometimes...uhhh...most of the time
a filter of information with a lazy eye
so if i’m the cyclops then who or what the fuck are you???
can a permanently drawn “X” also act as a brace or harness?
I love those questionless answers in your eyes
and the volcano that follows
is there a mini monkey monster in all of us?
one that kills only to be killed
there’s no mountain for your gods to hide on ya know
and you’ve no sword here that I haven’t already felt
or knelt before
staring at the dust...and where your feet used to be
like everywhere else i go
still wishing I had no dreams
or at least the power to just say “don’t”
instead I repeat “get in” once again
and we drive up and around that circle one more time....again.
with an unspoken promise for that “next-time”
perhaps one day our substances will actually work in tandem
then we can both breathe
then leave.