Thursday 28 September 2017

DARK DREAMS AND DUSK THAT CALLS YOU OUT



my
dreams
are
funerals where the dead mourn too

my
dreams
orbit
the heart of sickness

like stealth satellites
they monitor numbers stations
broadcasting blind
on
a
carpet
stain
moon 

~

and theres a castle
in the hinterlands there

i
built
it
from
soft bricks of flesh

( imagine a lego brick
  but soft to the touch
  and layered with 
  pale veined skin )

the castle in the hinterlands there
its uninvaded 
its cold turkey
its a plucked goose tower
vibrating
in
the
rain

and  
every
drop
has
its designated landing zone

a ledge to swell on
and a sky to reflect

~

and the castle windows are holes now
where 
we
used
to

where we used to

~

and well
dusk has some balls 
dont it ?

doing what it does
everyday

telling us 
what
we
dont
want to hear

its over
it says
its over again
so lay yourself down again

and worry again
that you done enough
or havent

( havent )

~

and i fall 
without moving

into
prescribed
sleep

into
undirected
theatre

into the castle there

its walls lined
with
the
detachable organs
of
another
nights
mad surrender

~

and i can only be grateful
when it lets me return

in one piece 

back to
dusks
upside down
morning




Image result for castle window

from rpgdrivethru.com

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