Blues of Charon

Sticks and stones might break my bones
But it's the Achilles heel by which I'm thrown
The poisoned dart of bayou foam
Seeps far too deep for rinsing

I've canned it, spanned it, surf its' stew
Past septic shards guide shrinking crew:
Vile-rumoured, sludge-stirred, Stygian goo
My gypsy's curse keeps slurping

Yaw, roll and pitch, I scour for tricks
Some snake-glass cure, some psychic fix
Insomnious germ that screams its drip
Chokes outrage quietly moaning

My wound's contused and bruised and raw
And long-foiled hopes disease the core:
A stable base, a roof, a floor
Such basic need I'm bleeding

As charm fights smarm for hallowed land
Corruptive truths fuel bunkered plans
To pile, to freeze the quickened sand
Which mires this "band-aid" living

So be smart, play mean, enlist extremes
Deploy what's left of righteous genes
And excise, despatch this sorry scene
To a fevered dream's retelling

©Ahealy 2011

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