Gordon Merrick Justice

Swift steed beneath my torso,
the one suspended on guiding legs
below loins of ‘devil may I’
equally as passioned as my wanderlust head

How many years now has it been
Your prime and every concern
My unsettled hoofs beating patternless with drive
My vagabonding wrench
The unsatiable back and forth of an endless throbbing hea…

By the dagger and the hangman
Sat a little loathsome queen…

When, a cold blue like winter
Settles onto a body of pink work…

We are all dying artists, trying to prove our hardest…

American you see:
We can not clean ourselves
Of this…

That night I hurt myself again.
With no physical wounds to show

I love the fire dancer, her intoxicating glow.
And after the dance she crawls down low.

I feel like this was built for me: bolder and more virile
He will defend me, let me take a fall, or a little of both

It becomes a hotel room painting once it leaves the sky;
it just looses it’s luster,
don’t ask me why.

Defining evil is like trying to define a word only to have to use another which also needs definition – an endless quests where each answer requires another answer.

I’m trying to fit them in somewhere
like those jilted punk-rock pansies did

I can no longer see the terrain for the forest
The forest for the trees…

this coma to come to be my sleep
My bed will be but horrors of broken pasts, a tomb and motionless

I know a sweet girl with some problems
And I hoped I could go ahead and solve them

Yell "Hell", if this was easy, there’d be no honor
"hell", if life were planned no one would care to play