shapeless these interrogators
keening over tree and lamppost
leaping over balustrades
landing underneath my skin

can't escape from day or night
captains shrieking out
"my tight-lipped friend we have to know!
tell us who and what you are!"

floundering while tied up
in the basements of my brain
picturing essentially an old half-working echoplex¹
a scratchy filter that deflects
its dials point to
"all-things-crazy back-up-and-delay"

difficult to fathom
what is happening inside
what's the use of doing this
confessing to absurdities?

lurking in the smoky chambers underneath
a monster army i have no defense against
emergeth from a shadow world

armor plated parasites
icky slugs and geezer muffins
stealthy and concealed they're busy
busting down my inner shield











¹echoplex – an electronic device that coupled with an electric guitar emits a notoriously unpredictable and rather slow-to-entropy ethereal echo.





© 2008KC wilder