LOCKED OUT the road running backwards LOCKED OUT time which whistles out a wrist cuff CLASP LOCKED OUT you are LOCKED with your palms white-pressed to the glass you are OUT and no Pete Rose clete to the catcher's grill will save you LOCKED OUT I hear the voices you adopt and it was never a choice, never a choice never a choice I use the one I came in the box with, yes the one I'm LOCKED OUT here with and maybe I don't care I don't care I don't care cuz maybe it's OUT HERE LOCKED OUT HERE that I see you in a totality, that I see you as you truly are.
marches firm with clomping silver boots into taverns cafe's movie houses just to say what's up and watch the faces go from zero to sixty from zero to sixty from zero to something revelatory and final. The man in the silver containment suit has giant silver gloves inside of which -WHO KNOWS?- perhaps he keeps giant silver hands, hands which access the levers of powers unseen, tucked away in basement operating theaters or a tattered reinforced Halliburton, or maybe even your garage on those cold nights where your storm windows do their thing. I've seen the man in the silver containment suit stop passers-by on the Avenue, just asking why why why, his silver containment fists curled and held heart-high. They'll just ask him what he's got in there and that's when the tears really start to kick in.
I've got a bag full of snakes where the books should be and the train's got an inmate at the helm. I've got a bag full of snakes where the soul should be and not all the knights and pawns could behead them once they get loose. They whisper and hiss through the cloth, truth marbled with enough lies to choke the whole thing down and I consider that even the clock and the tracks and the shrouding gravity are in on it. I've got a bag full of snakes where the sky should be but you'd be a fool to think you won't get rained on and when you do, make sure to watch the tracks, the gravity shrouding and yes, the door. Time and venom will move.