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Barbara Nestor Aug 2013
Can you hear the strange noise in my heart? It makes vrruuuum, vrruuuum , vrruuuum every time you nap fondly on my pillow.
My heart is a spy,  tic tac by the clock, carrying  the breeze in the  ball of a thumb, while 's quietly de flowering your dreams, layer  by layer.
As if exists a collection of you in the ******* of mankind !
A small brute ,  the naughty child playing kalasnikov games and puzzlling the answers, the teenager tucking  the drums, loud in all  radios and smashing pumpkins on nirvanaheads  spooning  on MDMA flying .
The   grown up's ready for work, bored as Peter Pan growing and sometimes funny when  life's a *****. I just saw you drinking Madeira  wine in  public toilets, splashing *** on your toes  while  dreaming  in rainbows of plastic.

I'm the frame of your dream. I'm here to take care of you while you're the squeeze of  the  petals and  the whistle into the sound of the music.
886 · Aug 2013
Barbara Nestor Aug 2013
My cat is alarming the daylight every single rotten day.
I wake up chocking from the un flickering dream,
Numb and kinda nervous, still watching the leftovers
Of characters fighting the path, back into reality.
All my nights since my life began revolving around my addictions
I patronized them, I begged them, I bribed them, what I did or what I not...
Exclusively the ordinary: buying flowers, candies,
Slot machines, **** videos, riding on elephants,
Cornering the cliffs, eating spiders, smoking ***
And beaming at the stars while they were changing music covers
Aside me, in slippers, house dresses and chewing cockies outta space,
Between a tooth and the next one located at five minutes array.
So you cannot call  in my nature as a bee. Or not to bee.
All the **** that you can do or not in dreams, I did.
Results presumptuous. As all dreams are.

Vague ends fishing the tale of monster Colombre.
He's old and he's lounging in Poseidon's trident,
Into the space between  the waves of gravity
Along with the pearl promised to every human being ,
As long as they are clapping hands for  fairies not dying
And children's bed time stories that  never lasts enough,
At every gasp they take when something murderous
Is happening  while   mothers turning into stone are reading,
The horrors of daily news at9 clock whisky .
For a  first, they enter into the deem reality
My imaginary ghostlike friends. I waved them farewell, at last.

I don't wanna spend more time buying crickets  or entertaining Terpsichore.
Now I'm busy writing songs  about them, eating  space cookies  with a little prince and feasting  on crickets with Maruska.

How did we get this far apart, we used to be so close together
How did we get this far apart, I thought this love would last forever.

— The End —