Thursday, 4 June 2009


Dreamt in a beehive, turned himself over
And still a beehive, his head is now too big to hide.
Came the messenger, with a loudspeaker
Handed out a parcel, inscribed with
Bold red felt marker —Thou shalt not touch!
And the meaningless sentence befell upon
He was not sorry, and so allowed the silence swell
Into a river, dividing lands and peoples.
Forgotten the pyres prepared for his own funeral
And the burning day break that promised to break the spell.
A sleep too noisy to be awake,
And a dream too absurd to be made.
How do you want me to behave?
I am turning in circles an unescapable loop.
How do you think this is possible
Echo to turn the show around Narcissus
And took over? And In the end nobody is to cry.

current listening:

Battle of the Sun - Placebo
Track: The Never-Ending Why

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