Along the wooded highway pass three golden doors
Open one and the wind rushes out so fast you can barely stand
Along the left side of the highway the off-running rain gathered
and cut itself a channel in the softest earth
a ditch to hide the body of the man from the future
he died from an overload of paradox equations
taking a turn for the worse the patient rolled onto his side
laughter below the cracked window seeping into the morning air
forming crystal surfaces that cracked, shattered into dust
as the first suggestion of speech emerged
Open two and the water rushes out and floods the village
drenched guards now thud up the hill
makeshift pitchforks stabbing the quiet air
vapid random hens minding their own business
placed into an indistinct time those forgotten motives
a deluge that carried the houses below away into the hungry ocean
all that memory dismembered with brutal efficiency
all that life washed down the stained drains of bathrooms
Open three and it smacks you in the head first
grabbing power means taking it from another before they have a chance
to wake up and let in sun open their eyes and work out what to wear
it built walls around you to hide its gaping hunger
The heads he had to devour smiling as they tumbled into the ground
forgotten streams of subtlety meander in the steady earth
all the rules in the world never kept order
Original title for this was, strangely, Farious Bigmy