String like vapors move erratically
With the slightest quiver of joy
Woven and interlaced with the
Most benign thoughts of petulance
Deep and warm purple crystalline
Structures jutting out from the ceiling
Beckoning sorrowful emotional
Tapestries of childhood terrors
Immense crystal looms ever so fast
To increase productivity thinking not
Of domestic market forces let us set
Forth to foreign ports in distant waters
Exporting fear is the name of the
Game we play as we idly lay about
In lukewarm blankets that cover us
With layers of facades sprinkled with hope
The internal placebo is passed off as truth
The external stitching is connected with
Saturnine fibers of immense darkness
A duality is lost to a perpetrator that is long gone
The fabric of time remains in the past
Unable to think of the prosperity to be had
Washed out and faded the vibrancy flows
Out his sore blistered blood drenched hands
Onto the floor where the old one would knit
Quilts of silk and iron to protect the boy
From the assailant that bends bones and thought
No longer armed with the quilt that once preserved
The boys sanguine esque demeanor
He lurks in the low places for a crone
That he can call upon to be his tailor of wards
Alas, that which is seeked is found
An opaque tri-color cloth made of a liquid
Unknown to me appears and whispers
Sounds of the great blue oceans of afar
It sings the song of greenest meadow
It mumbles the laughter of the reddest of deserts
The voices stitch together a fleece of gold
To be worn by the man troubled with neurosis
Omitted from thought the man is colorfully liberated
Sep 17, 2018
Sep 17, 2018 at 2:49 PM UTC
String like vapors move erratically
With the slightest quiver of joy
Woven and interlaced with the
Most benign thoughts of petulance
Deep and warm purple crystalline
Structures jutting out from the ceiling
Beckoning sorrowful emotional
Tapestries of childhood terrors
Immense crystal looms ever so fast
To increase productivity thinking not
Of domestic market forces let us set
Forth to foreign ports in distant waters
Exporting fear is the name of the
Game we play as we idly lay about
In lukewarm blankets that cover us
With layers of facades sprinkled with hope
The internal placebo is passed off as truth
The external stitching is connected with
Saturnine fibers of immense darkness
A duality is lost to a perpetrator that is long gone
The fabric of time remains in the past
Unable to think of the prosperity to be had
Washed out and faded the vibrancy flows
Out his sore blistered blood drenched hands
Onto the floor where the old one would knit
Quilts of silk and iron to protect the boy
From the assailant that bends bones and thought
No longer armed with the quilt that once preserved
The boys sanguine esque demeanor
He lurks in the low places for a crone
That he can call upon to be his tailor of wards
Alas, that which is seeked is found
An opaque tri-color cloth made of a liquid
Unknown to me appears and whispers
Sounds of the great blue oceans of afar
It sings the song of greenest meadow
It mumbles the laughter of the reddest of deserts
The voices stitch together a fleece of gold
To be worn by the man troubled with neurosis
Omitted from thought the man is colorfully liberated
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