Slide Show Poem by Ryan Davis

I run through a million storms
and run a thousand trails
just to get to the center of a ring,
and put on a slide show
of a series of performances
of one breakdown after another,
fuel by my own frustration
that's splatters on the floor
like liquid escaping from breaking glass.
The dialogue
is filled with nothing
but constant moaning,
and crying
over the turbulent ride
taking 24/7 nonstop,
even in my sleep.
Every room is a stage,
prepared for the torture
that hangs like a chandelier,
and leaves me severely haunted
and breathing heavily
thorough the incense smoke
of the tragedies
flashing before my eyes
in the slide show
like a kaleidoscope,
and draws all those freaks watching
closer
and closer
for the raising hell.