*I’m a healer; not a feeler,
a traveler with loss of passion.
Pipe dreams are clear when day is gone,
then I spawn stories you can’t imagine.
I’m a wanderer; but I am not lost,
burn the human manufactures.
The sky is bleeding poor man’s gold,
drowning lunatic dream-catchers.
I’m a winter child; but my heart is fire,
it's a roaring black hole of ancient lullabies.
Follow the zebra through the midnight woods,
I saw glimpse of amnesia in its eyes.*
Apr 27, 2017
Apr 27, 2017 at 11:08 AM UTC
*I’m a healer; not a feeler,
a traveler with loss of passion.
Pipe dreams are clear when day is gone,
then I spawn stories you can’t imagine.
I’m a wanderer; but I am not lost,
burn the human manufactures.
The sky is bleeding poor man’s gold,
drowning lunatic dream-catchers.
I’m a winter child; but my heart is fire,
it's a roaring black hole of ancient lullabies.
Follow the zebra through the midnight woods,
I saw glimpse of amnesia in its eyes.*
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