Galimatias

I can hear your chorus
and your rising pain-
it feels just like slumber
but it's writhing...it's slain-

I can't quite grasp it,
the gore of it all...
it feels so familiar though;
like a pull not a fall...

Why do I taste it's name...
why do I see it's blood,
why am I not fearing,
why am I not searing in shame..

It's slippery and sly,
weaving me weary...
fighting my conscience
and drugging me teary...

I can taste it,
like clouds among smoke-
raspy and leery...
a conniving type bloke-

So I dance with him,
run with him,
walk with him the walk of fame-
for he knows me,
he's given me my name...

And this waltz, this boxing trapping waltz-
it spins me and dips me,
teasing me and taunting....
and it makes...me....free.

Does it make sense?
...it feels just so right-
it's like shots of morphine,
blending my sky with the night
and I can't resist...
the gleaming pull...
how it feels,
happy and full-
Am I terrible?
...does it make sense?
...I can feel it's chorus-
it's rising pain...
but it feels only like slumber
-for the truth- it's in vain- and....slain.