frank moon
These good dreams are the worst nightmares
Where nothings changed or the good years
ghosts fill the record lost in a head with no accord flowing through my hands like sand
Into time long before not a chance of it happening anymore
these vivid doors open into worlds I can’t explore
Where scorn turns into imploring virtues
Glorifying what I’ve ruined struck with acorns my lake view is ignored focussed on sleep to hear
A peep weeping in the daylight no more steeping coffee just saying good night because we’re too perfect to fight under moonlight
Sutures of the past let the suitor join your mass
Where light years can pass without me catching a grasp
These thoughts will outlast you all like the lobotomy scar underneath my eye lid my autonomy is corrected by what I should’ve did
Getting rid of mistakes replaced with a golden age
Denying the right of my cage I write to turn a page
The stage is silent the violins are violent
The rage now quiet but the sickness willing
I slumber with embers knowing they won’t return
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frigid oxide