Into The Vault 0.0
the vault
is where it all resides
eyes wide shut
in a place that is displaced
files of grace and steel
the best of me
under lock and key
the worse of me
on a cd
all thats wild
under files
with right to copy to write
from behind the closed door
and stored in .doc
retrieve to doctor me
and to believe
the process
retrieve the excess
my constant witness
judge and jury
to my story
into the vault
by default and laziness
the craziness to observe
time served and cured
divided by destiny
and multiplied by hindsight
not to be dated nor misstated
but hinged by combination
and an armed guard
who don't know shit
bout what's in
each safety deposit box
numbered
v.1.whatever
v.2.whenever
v.3.wherever
v.4.whyever
v.5.disguised
out of sequence
instant.gratification
to a memory/memo
into the vault
i go even on sundays
when the bank is closed
and I need a withdraw
so I find my key
and spin the combination's dial
xeroxing the past into
paperclip'd trips and booklets
to hand out
on the street
to those who pass by
or maybe I'll make ticker taped
parades of pages written on
parchment
fug around unroll the papyrus scrolls
collecting dust
in the vault
But the vault is not at fault
for the timing system and alarms
that go off in the middle of the night
when I'm picking the lock
without any light
and with limited sight
it ain't right
when
I get locked
into the vault.
pencils.only
