Myth of Sanity or Illusion

Crack in the wall lets in the light from the stars.
Music echoes through orbs in the weeping willows.
Dust in tears leave tracks on the fresh fallen snow.

Please Igor, can you give me just a little more light?

Darkness holds my candle hostage at twilight’s crescendo.
Contemptuous dreaming through an incessant screaming,
I can’t feel my body with these hands of sanded mounds.

Quickly Igor, turn up the bass and let the walls crumble.

The insolent soulless itinerant grasps a shard of burning
sky tossing the planets into the blender creating a black
hole of unequivocal despair and treacherous malignancy.

Igor, just hit the red button, watch me rise into a nebula!

While jellied stars with glimmering diamonds danced into
the night, yellowed creamy desert moons stomped shells
of glowing peanuts long into the harvest on whiskey road.

Igor, head to the dungeon, the bell, book and candle await!

Remove a black top hat from the parlor rack, white gloves
aside, all these days of triumph and red transfixed illusions.
Waving the black obsidian wand, a magical fantasy exists.

Damn it Igor, I said the top hat, this conjures only rabbits!

editors note:

What the young god did to amuse his friends. Damn it, Igor! (Ken Allan has a new collection out, A Taint of Pity. You can get your copy here. Check it out!) – mh clay

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