in the sublime
of labyrinthine cosmos
where the greys of
skull are transmogrified
into hapless world
i am juxtaposed
with a miming blue man
to mark one morning
comes a flapping pigeon
to do some loitering
in the walls of
my slowly fainting heart
she does some breaking
as my eyes open
so does my pain
to the wounds of
some colossal hole
in my brain
i go down
to the town underground
if hell that it is
to make a burrow
and cage my pride
or to rot and bemoan
answer i don’t know
for more belittling
and to deepen this thought
comes a raven with
beak covered in blood
somehow endorses life
life…is it not a bemused parody?
of nameless faces in tragedies
sailing somewhere, but nowhere
near their roles in here
do they even know it yet?
as i rested my case with him
a little girl glided across
although far, her eyes shone
with a mere blink
she wafted her
joyful arrogance into me
to live dreams, we need no prophecy
to have hope, we must have tragedies.
