Statuette touch in a windless dream.
floating on whispers to a silken shore.
clouds fly by and so do I,
time is abstract as dreams.
As the walls turn to glitter
And the sound becomes lights.
It's time I headed home.
Fast as your feet can carry
Careening off through time
Mountains are hills and hills are fields
And I am running.
Running through these brisk fields, swimming with reeds of happiness.
Not a care in the world for the fields that lie beyond.
Snow globe cracks,
Perfect little life, hemorrhages
Glitter shimmer. Congealed clot.
Desolation in a quiet bubble.
Colour on canvas with the Crimson crayon.
Pure art, the world is stained red.
Frame it. Murderous masterpiece.
Our hopeless lives
The hearth is warm
In our silly lies.