“Isle of Man”
Two figures standing at an entrance
Walk slowly toward the door
To the control room, the switches
And gadgets and monitors bloom
Visions of visions recorded
Controlling the visions, cutting them apart
and together and twist words turned against themselves.
Visions depleted, disintegrated, lit afire
Three times the speed of paper
And burned into memory
The lifestream of thoughts
The melodies of time, memories
Bound by a silky string
Cut only once.
And the memories drop further
Down the supercollider
And bounce about and collide
Into each other and melt
And seep into the brain
And burn themselves on the
Back of your eyes
And the visions wont disappear
And you won't escape the past
And you'll twist and panic
And shout and cry and
Rip your bedsheets
And vise your eyes
And there
they
lie
