Roof Top

Column of stone,
slamming iron, smoke arises from the depths,
The sound of people’s words...
Mashed together in my ears,
smorgasbord of sound,
echos through the dark pavement,
I see only but a gutter and two french whore’s,
lying in blood, filth and the world’s shame,
A child’s boat floats on by...
A cesspool of blood, filth and lies...
Mysteriously,
money is sprawled across the cold street.
I see a young boy humming his church tune,
alone he experience’s the sight of death,
with out a hand to hold.
Frighten little child...
I alone on the rooftop,
see only the thinnest tightrope,
leading to my destiny,
I begin the voyage,
one foot after the next,
gently creeping like a
spider with his prey,
Marbles sprawled across
the atmosphere,
Hungary giants
sitting in the clouds,
their stomping feet
make the rope sway.
I slip on the marbles
and die one horrible death...
Seriously I’m telling you...
Crimson red, scattered slimy innards
and a couple shattered limbs,
I look like a hamburger,
that was just thrown up,
but looking at my body from here,
I think... clearly...