Missing with a pocketful of ice and rocks
in a perfect communion of paranoiac
projections for your dream run
down the corridors you secretly kept lit
under a voiceless moon, now riding on your voices.
Your father is waiting wordlessly.
Somebody has to tell your mother.
oh lala!! I feel the threat and I feel the powerlessness of words versus strenght of dreams images ... but don't quite guess what the mother should understand!
ReplyDeletethank you Beatrice! I wasn't sure whether I should keep the last line, poetically speaking.
ReplyDeleteYes somebody has to tell your mother is so loaded and... well, loaded well.
ReplyDeletethank you, Jeffree!
ReplyDeletegee this is just waiting for a drum beat underneath it
ReplyDeleteVery moving
ReplyDelete