Wednesday, October 18, 2006

benny's blues

benny's gone a-hunting, making wars on 23rd, running
down the alleyways, flairing for the scents of jelly-boy,
a cousin twice-removed, who's left his loving where his

loving should never, ever, go; benny's hunched with
a kind of madness, writing screams on every wall,
and he'll never find a stillness, some quiet for his soul,

never find a comfort in his sleep, and he'll lock his windows,
put a chair against the door, but he'll go no more to his
confession, whisper nothing in the darkness of his church

old jelly's gone and fallen, somewhere in the world, there
are ashes in the rain storms, clouds to hide the moon,
wrongness makes its quiet chatters, and benny's gone

a-hunting, making wars on 23rd, cause there are demons
left for slaying, before they write his end; yes, jelly's left
his loving, where his loving had never, ever, been


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