recovery room

Publié le par sneksnarc


The signs are calling
They’re sent in red boxes
With a black-eyed sign in the center
Crying out like a dead sunflower
Bending to a light full of degraded signs

The perfect signs
Falling from the guilty land
Where dad and mum were born
Bursting at the seams
As we’re half asleep
In the false realm of signs
Dreaming of you as a tv screen
Painted funny white


Publié dans poèmes

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