Take my hand and lead me through these long isles
of human desolation;
over burning bushes and forsaken altars of pride.
Carry me over of Sulfur rivers of guilt,
while thousands of zombified adolescents
bemoaning their implanted memories of glorious past.
I traveled from Providence to Death Valley
in quest of those who knows The Meaning,
but didn’t meet any single soul occupying living bodies.
The resurrection of Lizard King was cancelled by the unions.
Prayers exfoliating in tinfoil scales
while undermined street sweepers cabaret dancing
between piles of dung.
I peeked through the gates of abandoned cities,
whispered wishes through the cracked windows.
I drank with sailors in bars of Portland Maine,
but never met Epione* sitting at the bar.
Listen to the neighbor’s radio playing Lacrimosa
while he’s frying eggs with veggie bacon.
Lay me down into the artificial womb
and feed me with milk and honey.
‘Till the spaceship will brings us all
closer to the event horizon.
- In Greek mythology goddess of soothing