The Oracle Workers

Inspiration from Perfect Life by Steven Wilson.
There was a time when I wasn’t alone
The spring of 2003 was harsher than winter
It didn’t help with my terminal sickness
So I ran to the woods to capture beetles
That’s when I first saw him.
Light shone through a canopy to reveal
He had taken a fall, wings clipped
He was a runaway too, from what only God knew
His pale, unfeeling face betrayed nothing
But he needed my help.
So I helped him to my basement and set his bones
He refused to speak, like a cold booted computer
But he showed me his Walkman playlist
And I read him some of my favorite poems
I had found a friend that I never had.
Our worlds encountered.
He lived alone, no family, no friends
His house as big as his heart
For he gave me a bicycle that my stepmother denied
I still remember the ring of it’s bell against the breeze.
He’d see me off at school
And disappear into an unknown world
But always back in time to save me from the bullies
We’d fight them off as a team, screaming movie lines
I had found a brother that I never had.
Me and him against the world.
On Halloween, we’d dress up as flawed versions of ourselves
And visit the lonely meadow
To see the fireflies dance in the cold night air
His voice echoes in my ears:
“The sky is a hoaxed stage and the stars are actors
These bugs are the real deal. Like us.”
At fort Rubicoin, we showed each other our scars
He’d pretend his were permanent, for my sake
Then, we forced an incompatible connect
It was definition of my existence, it was flawed, it was perfect.
I had found a lover that I never had.
Our worlds finally one.
After I was blinded enough by his light
He gradually began fading away
Like the face on my damp bedroom wall
Like a rabbit whose burrow grew smaller and smaller
Before returning away into the Earth.
His house was sold and the fort, taken down
The jays couldn’t remember his whistle
And I couldn’t remember his name or his face
Maybe it was a side effect of my sickness
Fading blue eyes, distant train
And here I am in the woods
Lost in the very place I found him.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
Among all the mutated curses
You were the one sole blessing
Among all our foolish lies of the future
Was there one sole truth?
No matter how painful
Carve me a smile
No matter how hard
Churn me a miracle.



I’ve finally found you, my queen

Tie me up so I don’t try to leave

Lead me to your dungeons below

Occlude me from the Sun’s glow.

I know I shouldn’t be here

I couldn’t swim against the current

So lost in the undertow I was

Your siren song was my only lighthouse.

I watch you wear your armor

As you deprive me of mine

The wrinkles of leather against your perfect curves

Enlighten some energy into numbest nerves.

Interrogate me and question what I am

I daren’t lie nor hide for

The electric hands on my chest

“Your whimpers will make the perfect intro.”

I know I should probably leave but

Our eyes have us bound like a rope

Queen, you’re my only escape

I hope that you can reciprocate.

A sadistic song from the gramophone

Goddess, you have two heads and four hands

I try to synchronize to your sway

As you choose an instrument from your tray.

Tie me up to the chair

Tighten the straps till I’m pale

Nail me down to the bed

Keep pumping till I’m light in the head.

Liberate me of my vision

Stiffen up my remaining senses

Inject your secrets, pierce my skin

Punish me Goddess, for I have sinned.

I’m caged, so I won’t complain

I’m enjoying this too much to object

I’m defenseless, make your move

Oh Queen, I bow only to you.

I can’t keep up with your tantalizing tease

Scold me for every failed attempt

Whisper with the smoke in my ear

And let me feel your cigarette’s sear.

Let the blood flow, let the salt flow

Leave me hanging from the edge

Deny me the permission to relapse

You can be the cause of my collapse.

I can feel the scorch of your smile from beneath the blindfold

Your sharp words dig deeper

Whip me till I’m tame

“Your screams make the perfect interlude.”

Brand me a slave, oh alpha apsara

So I can always be yours

I’m exposed on this side, pick up the iron

Oh mistress, I answer only to you.

I dance to your throbbing tune of dominance

Don’t hold back, let it dissipate

Impose your will, compose the end

“Your sigh will make the perfect outro.”

. . . . . . . .
Waking up from a withdrawl

Why did you leave me in the dark?

A new set of scars to hide from my mother

What did you do to me?

I can feel it in my veins

An unfeeling urge for another dose

I can’t salvage enough satisfaction

Should I come looking for you?

Or should I just wait?

Either way, I’ll fade away

But I’d rather let you take me apart

Just say my name and claim my heart

Oh, my mistress, I’d die only for you.



Every Brain Is Wired

Inspiration from Every Home Is Wired and Radioactive Toy by Porcupine Tree.

The alarm shock wave wakes me

I thought I saw my wife but no

The chip in my brain activates

Invisible strings get me on my feet.

In the shower, I recall last night’s dream

Wasn’t sweet, nor a nightmare

Instead, a timetable of today’s routine

My cortex in a cage, lump in throat.

A set of prison clothes

And the tatters of my wife’s scarf

(The only thing that I managed to salvage)

What color should I wear: black or white?

I let the electronics elect.

The cold breakfast is a little bitter

The pack reads “Amber Waffles” but

My tongue screams amphetamines

A curse in my mouth, lump in throat.

I almost say “Honey, I’m off to work!”

Before remembering that I live alone

In the company of spiders of course

Because every wall is bugged.

The winter air is a little dusty

The signs say it’s pure but

My lungs somehow don’t agree

A weight in my chest, lump in throat.

I see the arrest (assault) of an abberrant

My emotional overrides force a smile

“Don’t worry, we can be pals

After your lobotomy.”

My ears glitch to hear a cricket’s tune

Pardon me, it was only my Geiger

A virus called nostalgia just quarantined (quelled)

A song stuck, lump in throat.

A queue (quarrel) for a solitary ray of sun

We lost the ozone skyline but

We have the blinds of mushroom clouds

That’s the government’s explanation (excuse).

The city looks so different from a distance

Factories as far as the fog (smog) goes

There’s no room for your castles

Imagination ignored, lump in throat.

I enter the hive

An interwoven web of zombies

A conveyor belt of babies

My labor is to label them for life.

Slave, Soldier and Sadist to the terminal

Musician, Marxist and Mother to the trash

Programmers hardwire their new future

Conscience on the collapse, lump in throat.

I almost say “Honey I’m back!”

Before remembering the raid

By the courtesy of snakes of course

Because every house was wiped.

Suddenly, the sofa’s a gurney

Heading to the TV for my

Recreative cranial reformative surgery

The signals are the scalpels

Avant-garde music is the anesthesia.

I break free from the straps

Security on red alert

All the filters and the barriers bypassed

I’m taken back at least 30 years.

I stumble to my wardrobe

There lie the tatters of my wife’s scarf

(The only thing that managed to bear the ravage)

Only it deserves to become my noose

My heart in my throat, a lump in my throat.

Honey, I’m finally coming to you

Prepare the kids to brace for a surprise

Your voice is fading in and out of focus

Just hit the killswitch

Hanna, just pull the plug please.

. . . . .

The defibrillator shock wave wakes me

I thought I saw my wife but no

The failsafe in my brain had kicked in

I should’ve known that

Every brain is wired.