On The Acquisition Of Lamps.

In my dreams I always die

No matter anyhow

We all gotta go sometime

But it’s the manner of the going

That’s got me jaded

There’s a fat clown I’m talking to

And he seems understanding

Until he takes a straight razor

And slits my throat

Then there’s the one eyed hit man

Tracking me down through the city

Rain slick streets not slowing

His need to end me

Yet I don’t know what I did

To piss off his boss

Some gambling debt I guess

Though I don’t gamble

So have never lost

Then there are the robot babies

Like the dolls from Barbarella

Tiny but unstoppable

With gnashing teeth

Designed to strip flesh from bone

Home alone

I see them marching toward me

As relentless as an episode of The Block

And why the fuck not?

Let the renovators do me in –

Triple threatening me into a cold sweat

I hang on their advice

On how to quietly end my life

Which apparently requires

Fluffy pillows, shit art and

The acquisition of lamps

© shaun patrick green 2015