Toy shop

Let’s play street

We walk crowds

And dip into pockets

Filthy hankies are molded

Wiping sweat off plastic faces

The toy shop

One legged dolls limp in muddy grounds

Mother’s tales and unicorns…

dark horses with headless knights

The money that buys all

The mirror of wishes

Speak unto your reflection

And thou shall be

Hanging by loose threads

Dancing lullabies by the puppeteer’s hands

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Knot

Trapped in a dead man’s watch, 
A young man’s soul sinks in the abyss 

Falling through echoes and whispers 

The tailor only made the tie

Sold it to a friend, 

And the user’s guide he keeps

Beneath a cracked mug, 

“the pain never goes away”

Whisky stains on the pages

Of a father’s will to his son

He stares at the knot in the mirror

“I never get it right”

And steps off a leaning chair

Shade by the moonlight 

The sun is a candle…

burning inside the mirror 

Yet another reflection

It’s rays fall cold on my skin

A bleached rose

smell the sixteen,

Whirl in the abyss of love

An ocean,

Drowning in its waves

The salt crystals molten on the walls of my lungs

A burning thirst,

addicted to the flames of your kisses,

fallen into a shade by the moonlight

The forever winds

Breezing on my rugged skin

The memories to the grave

Wilted flowers carried from it’s stones

Into the skies,

When I become gray

 

The last sunset 

A breath that lives

A mother’s kiss printed on your forehead

farewells into the open sea

A sailor’s oath 

Hands printed into the wood,

and feet anchored in the deep waters

The curse of the black chest

You swim with the snakes,

and despoil with the wolves

You eat with the strangers,

and fight besides your brothers

The vanity

The Gold and wine

The withering pleasures of flesh, 

The molten statues of youth

Dusted, and ruining

With the sea’s song along a soft tide,

You catch the last sunset

A mother’s smile 

As you drown,

Sinking, 

into the oblivion 

Salem

Stare long enough into the night, 

Until you see the stars 

And when your eyes become familiar with their shapes, 

Watch them fade, 

Die, 

before the break of a new sun



Life is joy, 

and suffering 

Fabricated dreams drawn in the clouds

changing at the blow of the first wind 



It is easier to accept the night

Faceless,

Blameless,

than the day



Before a thousand eyes,

peering into your soul 

ripping your guts for the vultures 

When church is where we belonged

Before the priest set afire on the witch 



And in all,

my short life I have cherished 

Known a thousand men but one soul

With no regrets,

my ashes will be swept along Salem’s streets 

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