Wednesday, 27 October 2010


Do we sleep on our sins
As we'll wake up tomorrow
Hoping that it shall be gone
The fright of the night
The burnt of the toast
As we sleep on our own
As we scream in nightmares
Are the covers that dark
That we never take them
With us?
As we travel far
With everything upon
Tied in a throat in a knot
As we sleep on used by other guest's covers.
Do we believe in the colourful powder?
We lie and pray
As the monster chews it
And spits it out
Sometimes it takes our socks,
Laughing at our naivety
As we walk with one green
One red.
He said he wanted to be colour blind,
I raised my brow.
He should get rid of himself
Or let the washing machine choke on him
As I'd let his corpus spin
I'd see death screaming
Take me back
Would I break it
Letting soap float
As death shall yank my chin forward
Would I make out with it?
Just for the hell of it.
As the weeks would be mentioned
Written with pink chalk on the floor
Teddies emerging from under my feet
As I'd be greeted
Where, I'd ask
I'd get a laugh.
I wasn't the one trying to look cool
By getting a defect
I was getting rid
Of the sin written from above
For what reason
Is this sarcasm?


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