In a fairy tale with no <br />happy ending, <br />wondering why they don't know <br />thoughts I'm sending, <br />darkness and ill will bled, <br />coming straight from my head, <br />like ink from a cattle fish, <br />like from a satellite dish, <br />rotted putrid like, <br />decaying flesh gasping <br />from charnel odor. <br />Hoping it will strike <br />their minds as fresh <br />flowing thoughts out grasping <br />their same decoder. <br />Astounded, aggrieved, despite agitation <br />plunging fast through thin ice <br />seemingly incurious. <br />Furiously yet <br />wearyingly fighting lassitude <br />which becomes a blackout. <br />Fanned anger a constant glow, <br />dimly staggered odors <br />of sickening recognized hysteria, <br />disgusting slashes smelled faintly <br />of corruption, transiting the moon <br />with dark clouds, <br />taking the shape of panther's <br />head turning <br />with a baleful yellow <br />blotted reason, <br />shapeshifting<br /><br />Nicholas McDonough<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-devastated-wishing-well-aug-20th-2003/
