Lifeless Shade Of Pale

Lifeless Shade Of Pale

So the rhythm of
that beating drum
pedals along to
the center of
my soft jigsaw
puzzle brain,
chipping and chopping
away like a carpenter
with only an hour
left to finish the job,

and the salty sweat
sneakily gasps for
fresh air and
leaps back into my
pumped up eyes
and the fresh cut
grass that's become
my sweet sweet bed,
crawls and creeps
all-over my stale
beer skin,
itching and tickling
this piece of deadwood,
lying amongst a
field of strangers,

and the tall soul
and his hardened
haired sidekick,
keep beating that
tormenting echoing drum,
laid back Sunday
vibe style,
unbeknown-st of my
pain and suffering
from a nights mayhem
amongst the
shadows and stars.

And I call to Thor,
"grant me some of
your tears Thor,
cleanse me,
cleanse these souls
within this freak show,
pass the misery to
the miser counting
his gold",

but the beat rolls on
and sweat becomes
tears and like that
piece of deadwood
I stew in a shallow
stale swamp and
rot and fade to
a lifeless shade of pale.

                                    spb.