Morning with Goya

Crimson flames running through the pages
‘Frozen words coming from the depths of lost ages’
Melting darkness slipping under my door
‘There’s still a smell of hatred but unlike before,(unlike before),’
Drops of light dripping from the window
‘Wooden birds swimming round and low’
Gusts of wine swirling in my head
‘Flittering memory of a dead.’
Glasses of colour rising softly in the air
‘Flying pigmees all smily and bare.’
The song of a distant ocean beating in rhyme with the heart of my beloved one
‘The laughter of a dwarf riding the sun’
And the thunder of the road stroke again
I saw great green lightnings of blood and hair
‘The flies in the suitcase of a monkey drawing brains’
‘I once fell in love with a bear’
Happy thoughts scrowling on the kitchen floor
‘The silence of pain ****** someone somewhere near the door’
The last ashes of a prayer vanished suddenly
‘Golden tears washing out slumbers eventually’
The rest of a forgotten dream is disappearing in the world-sink
‘Chains of past sensually dancing, without a blink’
Flittering memory of a dead
Fleeting smoke of a foreign freedom
‘Black horses painting (repeatedly) the top of my head’
‘Switching letters and pencils crossing the day “Lonesome”’

Only way to have your hand waving free
Is holding a gun, (‘just like me’.)