A child is somewhere scribbling,
not quite knowing what to say,
a ****** with a habit of empty words.
The smart money’s on failure
and I can’t seem to sleep,
because the moon is leaking sliver fears.
The polar-bear cocktail,
paints a chalk barricade,
that incoherent scolding's cannot climb.
Hope went unnoticed,
until it was lost,
but sudden silence
- came to make me new.
The marks of quiet panic
- those flickering tattoos,
fade - like specters in the sun.
In the company of kindness,
peace glitters just like glass,
and the witch in the mirror slinks away.
You’ll find me at the exit,
heading for a steady sea,
my uninformed perspective’s in my bag.
I navigate like driftwood,
hoping for a return trip,
my plans are coherent in my dreams .
scribbling notes from incoherent dreams
