day11

unsatisfying is
the egg white cloud
so I falsify the dream
hang raw suns above every table
plastic retro decor
a sad sad plate

coloured sticks
I will load into life
not sprites, or angry ghosts
but cave pets, pigments
soft and cuddlesome

“with his blood, I can be at the start of time
through his sign, I can tour the kingdom”

she’s a flow mountain
of white gentle fabric
a reversed pieta
where mother still comforts

I lay down to rest
the snow land is risen
aligned with my body
the searcher of morning

Author: Irving Paul Pereira

bohemain

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