Τετάρτη, 6 Ιουνίου 2012

Pillowfight.








But the dreams won't go
But the dreams won't go

They will linger, like the scent
Of thyme and trodden poppies
Humbled by the cloven hoof
Of forest demigods.

The dreams won't go
The dreams won't go

For the summon was old
And the words were unused
And the sea drank the sun
With the white city burning.

And the moon was half-dead
And the stars were of smoke
When the end of the world
Fell upon me, lips tender.

No, the dreams will not go
By the smearing of bedsheets
And the cleansing of breaths
I know the dreams won't go.

My lost Sodom rebuilt
With the charred bones of God
No more salt for the gazer
No more burns on the back.

For the dreams will not go
The dreams will not go

For our name has been whispered
As our cities collapsed
In the depths of a promise
That the dreams will not go.

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