Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Ink
I have developed a twitch in my body-brain.
It jerks at my organs and my violet thoughts.
I can control it to make it work,
Use it to dance on your rusted metal cogs.
It's like a spinning tree,
With interwinding pine cones of
Gold that hang from satin branches
He is perched up there again!
Tall and proud.
Not a bird like other animals.
Not an animal like other animals.

I know your most shameful thoughts,
Let me tease out the guilt and despair
Pull it out in worm string from your
Bloodied Guts,
Your gilded towers where you lock them away
Shame on you.
Bell chimes three times: Death call
But blue tears still cling like sharp thorns to brassy plumage
plumes plumes plumes

Frère Jaques, Frère Jaques, Dormez-vous? Dormez-vous?

Slumber not next to the satin tree,
Layered under the shrieks of your old loves
Where they suffer timeless tortures that make your tongue
Taste like fish feed.
Poppy breathed inside his beak-jaw, mongrel!
White faeces stain the satin branches again.
Bloodied, bloodied, bloodied.
Pandora makes you bleed
White faeces.
Leech, your brain is a leech-vampire.
White faeces.

Quick, walk around the tree three times in clockwise motions,
Not like a tick-tock more like the flap of a wing.
Do not forget the tear ink,
Her tears were ink,
they were ink,
ink, ink, ink.
Sink into the poppy field!
Churn in your toxic nutrition
Choke on your reflux
Do not taste.
Do not see.
Do not smell.
Do not touch.
yikes no idea where this came from.
The last train to lost dreams,
is at the station, leaving soon,
if you ever wished upon a star
you ought to try the Moon,
it worked for me.

Anyone can see,

if you miss the train you'll lose out,
there's no stopping on the way
it travels blindly through the sleeping night
and wakes you up next day.
I've got to go,
just got to know,
what is hidden in the corners where
my eyes fear to look
like the pages full of autographs
I've got to have a look
and see who's there.
in my dreams I dare.

The last train to lost dreams
is a million miles away, through
the silence of internal night
into the light of day
and we don't pay
the ticket's free.

— The End —