Cut

Don't cut in line
we're almost to the souls doorway
My dead body
lies in the goosefeathered tree,
wrapped in lightning.
Piece by piece
they unstrap me, one piece
for every tenth lie; unlike Lazarus
I don't ever want to wake again
Lightning strikes
once more,
severing my spine
as I snap back in time
I hate this timeline
where my brethren weep,
and the children reaped,
The Goddess ' lamp is running out of power
and now I'm sent further from the beyond
into a time
where patience and freedom
roamed together
like a lion on the hunt,

The line is much longer
than what I told
the neighbor next to me.
Oops another lie,
one more strap and again, I rather die-consequences are inevitable,
but is there really an end?
I look unto the eyes of fire,
right through the souls doorway - where's a breach when you need one?
Three by three we disappear into a
whirlpool,
the neighbor behind me
stares with black - filled eyes,
the one behind him has none,
are mine the only one who's eyes
are vacant?

May the fuse
keep burning, like benzocaine
the rope seems
near, but no
longer will this universe fill my eyes with woodchips.
Cut it,
I'm sick of the lies
Cut it now!
CUT IT!!!
 

The whirlpools are near,
we're the next three,
The end?
There isn't one.
I'll just keep on spinning.