Sunday, 1 November 2015

A Dead Case

A haunted conference of empty chairs
Necklaces for blood décor
Once a racehorse
Now the headless neck
Of gore and glorious 
A torture so great
The heads come flying in your far-fetched face

It is not knowing 
That pounds your headache
Never love twice the same lover
Animals from factory farms
Blessed are those who haven’t beaks
For beaked are those in prison cells

We talk about the dead people like they’re still alive
Contemplations of morbid nature
A cemetery during the night
Begging what is on the other side
Stone hedges for stoners
A blinking eyelid slipping
Out of tongues ten feet long 

Charity comics pay attention
Says the one struggling on four hundred followers
Eight eyebrows per eye
Ten pairs of lips inside one mouth
Navigate your sense of thirst and sip your water 
Through translucent straws

Confused suggestions and a cycle of 
Twins sought after
Tired tongues to nurse the healing wounds of bleeding ego
Craving praise far and wide
Is for losers