Dreams of lighted days

Saturday, 2 April 2016



It was hard to describe. Rock bottom, full of pests. They kept writing. Story of astonishment and venom twisting. No one said it's going to be easy. It felt like a hurricane. But breeze, only after some still days of unwinding from the psychopathic's plot.

And then it all went away when I'm alone, within my terror circle that I've drawn, only getting smaller. He held my hands, we closed our eyes and drifted. Far and safe.

And the people bowed and prayed, to the neon god they made.
And the sign flashed out its warning, in the words that it was forming.
And the sign said, "The words of the prophets are written on the subway walls, and tenement halls, and whispered in the sounds of silence." - Paul Simon



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