Secret

Night.
Sounds silhouette silence.
Signs of clockwork,
Lanterns,
Cries,
Wrath,
Shackles.
All signs dissolved.
Into a bone cloaking froth.
Skin begins to sear.
Feet meander on winding roads
Craving for the mirror muffled
By a sense of emptiness.

Children sleep.
They must, or I will talk to them.
Sleep.
Wonderful sleep.
Dust ridden, sweaty sleep.
Under layers kept trim.
Fragments neatly swept under
The below.
An oblivion.

Words undulate,
Die, before they are strung together.
The gallows advanced.
Iron sooner, earth sooner.Fragments sooner.
Money sooner.
Neat, bloodless death.
Embryonic.
In the head.
Near eyes unreliable,
Hair useless,
Ears numb with silhouettes,
Bones bald, overwhelmed,
Limbs migrating.

Above, a sack of fragments
Asleep.
Above.
Passions injected,
Skin felt by skin,
Language washed out,
Eyes devouring,
Hands running over crevices,
Mouths sucking into emptiness.
Celebrating.
Bones clumped.
Blood flows.
Orderly, directed flow
And primitive rhythm.
Like children wallowing
In fresh bodies
With no memory, nor love.
Dust smiting them slowly.
Slow, like serendipity unnoticed.
Rain drenching them to the bone,
Skin yielding to the silvery percolation.
Greys intriguing.
Greys denied, loved for assumed absence.
Scars mild, camouflaged.
Wallowing in a psychedelic dream,
Almost sensual. Carnal, to the mind and body.

Lacerate my skin.
Shred my threads of order, flow and purpose.
Burn the numbness.
Singe the cysts.
Break me into a million pieces.

Litres of blood to resurrection,
Before the wake of the other psychedelic dream
Fresh psychedelic dream.