Black Drapes and Plastic Fingers

Awhile back my soul took a wrong turn sometimes I wonder was I a tough birth did I come out feet first like a blue faced luge runner banking right then left onto the icy cuff launching into a starless pit of nothingness- Maybe your breasts were filled with booze not enough nurture. Maybe a bit to much old fashioned strap from steppingstone mother for the most minor infractions. Without love to temper stings life is just one big muddy slog void of any spring- I'm hesitant-simple decisions are difficult. and that ever present haze of mistrust once sparkling relations turning diamonds into dust- Maybe I snapped when that pissed off farmer. wrapped a dead snake around my neck- For freeing his herd of cows-now I'm a bit of a control freak. Wanting to palm butterflies and honeybees. Maybe It was that fifth grade "teacher"(you know who you are). With the strong cologne and loose hands- That made me into a quicksand man. Everybody I meet gets sucked into the ooze. I need to let it all go-clean the mental lint trap. but these sun crushers, present and past. keep arriving in sleek sharky waves. Bearing loose plastic fingers and black satin drapes-