In a fairy tale with no
happy ending,
wondering why they don't know
thoughts I'm sending,
darkness and ill will bled,
coming straight from my head,
like ink from a cattle fish,
like from a satellite dish,
rotted putrid like,
decaying flesh gasping
from charnel odor.
Hoping it will strike
their minds as fresh
flowing thoughts out grasping
their same decoder.
Astounded, aggrieved, despite agitation
plunging fast through thin ice
seemingly incurious.
Furiously yet
wearyingly fighting lassitude
which becomes a blackout.
Fanned anger a constant glow,
dimly staggered odors
of sickening recognized hysteria,
disgusting slashes smelled faintly
of corruption, transiting the moon
with dark clouds,
taking the shape of panther's
head turning
with a baleful yellow
blotted reason,
shapeshifting

Nicholas McDonough

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-devastated-wishing-well-aug-20th-2003/