The Grapevine
John Samaras
Either path you take
You won’t avoid the flames
Roads are crossing wires
But your mind’s been made
Out of papier-mâché
Set in stone, never in clay
No one’s a saint
That’s just too much weight
I hallucinate
For most of my days
It’s the cross I bare
More wood for the pyre
It’s all that I desire
Every single day
Poisoned thoughts invade
Don’t ask how I’m doing
Someone’s listening in
I haven’t said a word
Vines hang like prison bars
Of Mother Nature’s arms
Oh, how I’d like to be
But I hallucinate
For most of my days
It’s the cross I bare
More wood for the pyre
It’s all that I desire