What's in store

I'm just the thick end of a loaf of bread
Destined not to exist and better off dead
A minute against the steam train to hell
I could linger even further I could be the drip on the dwell
On the end of your nose I'm a sweat beyond the scream
An escapism escalator that leads you to the dream

A ventriloquist dummies with the force of your hand up my ass
You know where I'm heading and it's better blue and it's meant to be crass
So I take a bow to the audience and I cry within this torture
And I regress upon a manic mind and I'm able to predict the future.

Who the hell are you to ignore my prayer you son of an incessant itch
Scratching till my arm does bleed you red horned son of a bitch
I'm here for my life I ain't going nowhere I swear
I'm the blurred vision glass on your winter screen gambling it'll clear I dare.

Once upon time in the midst of poetry and rhyme
Mixed a perfect recipe of sugar and flowers and fire and brimstone and time
Dream a little hallucination a mushroom cloud  of picks of guitars and shovels
A nuance of fingers diving into mush a mess of multiple levels.

The last verse I promise you it's the end I know you're bleeding bored
I've tried heading into the light blush side of a mind that is loaded and stored
The conclusion of this tale and I crave to have you one know
Is that amongst the furrowed brow of life you'll never comprehend what's in store.