THroB

THroB
There is an insistent pound
An aching throb in my head
My head it aches
You cannot repudiate
The pain it makes
The throb, throb, throb in my head

I try to find my voice
You say I have no choice
I can rip the throat from the brute
But he does not become mute
I keep trying to find my own voice

You tell me we won the big war
But you can’t tell me what it was for
Instead of beating the bad guy
We swallowed his core
Now we’re the bad guy
Full bore whores and gore

I’m gonna drill a hole in my head
Trepanation to keep the beast fed
To reduce the insistent tread
Of the throb, throb, throb of dread
Scooping out discs of my head

Quit twisting my knobs
Your static just adds to my throb
No need to shout
Concentrate on the job
Help me get this splinter out

Ah…

What was I talking about?
Feel the chill a cold shadow brings
Feel I must be missing something
Silence fills up the room
All echo without any boom
What was I talking about?

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Words and Collage by Jay Larsen

Graffiti by Banksy