Dried is the pulp in preparation of a new dawn,
Following all paths,
Red balloon smiles warmly as the black joker infiltrates,
Under the guise of experience untold,
Lights blur the saliva laden streets,
An early death awaits within the cracks of mentality,
Situated between polished metal and rubber,
Penned in by naturalism,
Words lose their labels,
To become noise filtered through mechanisms of flesh,
Intent on drilling deeper into this newly developed form,
Open your subconscious and experience the show,
Whirlwind of colour, meshed brick and paper,
Music man with black top hat,
Tiger-sized vampiric cat,
Hold my frailty tight,
Prophetic journey finalised,
Remaining fragmented in shadow,
Membrane tossed into the oceans of familiarity,
Crushed yet still reflecting another life lived briefly,
Will I ever return to the chaos of cupboard coma?
Poem published in the online arts magazine, The Galley Collective – Issue 6 – https://issuu.com/
This piece is also part of the collection:
Deathly Sorrow: A Collection of Dark Poetry
Contact the author!
https://daveronaldcave.wixsite.com/artist
https://www.facebook.com/david.cave1/
