Dreamy converse, easily lost, even the stars
one day will disperse. Love for this life will drop like lead
as the inferiority of the material rears its ugly head.
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Royal golden eyes, flecked with toffee,
Regal pools of honey, mixed with rich pink gin,
A devilish grin; your true nature.
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How permanent, is thawed winter
Raw like a splinter, on snow like a beginner,
I was your tinter, lost gold, much like winter.
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Yet, still it arises as the disgust
That flushes disfigured faces
With gurgling insides:
They call it sea-sickness.
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The enamel fairy arises from its catacombic
Sleep; puckered and embalmed, like
A maggot, wiled by metamorphosis and dilated
By rainfall.
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It's so easy to talk, much harder to think
Without my mind falling out the neat windows,
But I'm not even sure anyone else noticed
I’ve been speaking and standing in circles.
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Feel my chest sink into me
Rise against them
Gasp through the thick air
Steadied by brick
Crimson claws and walls
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As an angel steps from the mist,
He weeps, “not unless O my love I’m dead,
Gone before my time
Without a kiss from my beloved!”
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Heracles! They cry, they sing,
But he hasn’t done a single thing
Since his dad did him a favour,
Giving him some tasks under which to labour.
I mean, what did he really do?
Just killed some things (and not just a few).
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