Busted Flush

Emotions busted
like a flush in the face
of five aces
What the fuck? I swear
there were four when I looked there before
I know I'm not lying because I can still
feel the dying of the overwhelming glee that I felt
when I opened my eyes to the hand I was dealt
just a second ago

I need to de-struct something
because there is code being executed here
that I don't like at all
it's running me down and into
the safety of a dark, warm, stoned hole
I can't find you because I can't see anyone
through the mud-brown coating;
nicotine yellow and rust resin,
of my accepted limitations

And it comes out here, a blurt of hurt
fingers and mind driven to
synchronous stacatto bursts
of the best and the worst and the need
to concede to the creed of clarity
that comes like a drug-rush
up from below to flow from me to machine

It scares me, sometimes
when I stop typing and read back through
to find words twined like rapists hooked
around and into the chloroformed truth
and worse, still, the unrelenting draw
to spew this vision onto these keys and find
something in the mess that I swallowed once
because it went down so fast I can't
remember if I tasted it or just dreamed
the flavor of right in a bite of memory
or maybe something even more dangerous

I don't bother to resent or resist it, I can't, anyway
I will admit that I’m glad to have something irresistable
and not resented play it's tunes though my half-baked
waking brain that I can come back to tomorrow
and find this flavor of time and place
that marks my path for me
with a sign that says something like

"You've been this way before, choose again."