Visitors (Tony Walton)

Posted on July 12, 2014 by in Heightened Talk

TV kicksThey come for you-

in old fashioned hats,

from where you don’t know,

to fuck you hard against every wall

you’ve built up.

 

They know how to pick all your locks,

break through your firewall,

blocking all exits.

 

Out of mirrors in small rooms with

flickering televisions they stare into your

flatness outlined in twisted sheets.

 

You give them food and wine,

trying to appease them.

You smoke with them, but they never mellow.

They’re like gods of a certain kind and

know all your devices.

 

Imagine what they’ve cost you in

Priests, lovers, advisers?

 

They’ll come for you and

they never stop coming

until you die, or

they die in you.

But, maybe there’s

something else wrong,

besides

them

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