25 Aug Vultures of Paris, Do You Hear The Thunder
Posted at 13:02h
in Poems
Don’t look behind at Paris burning
Or at how the angels fade away
When you look at the photograph
Of the children trying to play
I met my doppelgänger
He had this look in his eye
Under the streetlight, warning
One of us would have to die
By the rivers where we wept
We knew we couldn’t return
To the way things used to be
And that Paris had to burn
I killed my doppelgänger
When I recognized him first
In the broken glass, warning
Things might go bad to worse
I spit up fire and tobacco
And got drunk on all the smoke
So say what you mean to say
I’m tired of all your jokes
A black dog chased me down
Eyes glowed with lunar hate
Appearing from the nothingness
Like words from magic eight
How often do I lie awake
With a heartbeat sonic boom
It all tastes like Spanish moss
And it reeks of bad perfume
A black dog gnashed its teeth
But left me well enough alone
Like everything else from Hell
It just wanted to go back home
But we can’t go back home