PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

This mind is A vortex where all the jilted paper

airplanes fly

the ones with improper flesh folded wings

and concrete crumpled nosedive

ends

comes spiralling down to rest with the

dust and the used up childhood

relics and then share a cup of chamomile tea

with every teddy Bear who didn't quite

make it

put up with dust irratations on eyes

that couldn't blink

and spat OUT an inaudible trail of expletives

that you couldn't fucking hear

if you weren't fucking forgotten

just like they say the damned

hear voices if they tape record

silence and ghost children pleading for help

or helping you to know what shade

the last two or three pints of blood are

when cabaret colour dots begin to

put on their good time pants so

that they can Dance the good time dance

before your world weary Eyes one last time

maybe you bleed black

but they'd never know

because they can't see the world through

your eyes man, we maybe are All

one mind but we're any number

of lips and eyes and fingers and cocks

and THere've been a lot of red blood cells

but it's a finite number