Cacti Epsilon

Cacti Epsilon

Dead insects,bits of soap,broken handle and a dusty toe
This was the spectacle after the row
Apocalypse's Four have retreated into the bilious shadows
And I'am left in this nuclear aftermath
In a vast grey plain-echoing with the lonely call of a cactus

Heaps of rubbish socks and
And amid all this islet of celestial chaos
stands a broken image of a lamp
Forlornly gazing at the darkness pressing all around
Morn beats at the shut cages of our prison
Those are not windows with frills but
our trinket cerebellums (rattling against the mist of our vulgar thoughts)
And the cactus calls still...
The grey plain rings with the lonesome cry
And we wait with dust in our hands
Standing at the crossroads of idiocy.
The grin stretches across the horizon
And the Fool lopes over the hedge
Under a starry blanket
(Sometimes in the night this desert eats your loneliness as the cold closes in)

Somewhere in the distant past you hear the call......the cactus's call
(The needles push inside and the pain sums up to a single pinprick

This is the end of reason
This is logic's logical genocide