Schizophrenia.com

Spots on the Sky

They were carried to her evanescent shores,
upon dreams drifting across the brightest horizon,
scarred by the blood rain from the sun,
for the God of wonders who was just an illusion
each soft tear, an instrument of His revolution.

I will always want to come here
where the sun never sets on a sky so alive
where the happy stopwatch wives
sip their tea, & smile by design.
waltzing around twilight, gleefully, around
plasticine trees of ever-green.

I remember when the moon came down from above
and all the clocks reversed their motions
there were no mirrors to see our reflections
a strange phantasm, we’d have recognized
the secret writings on the walls of paradise.

I am the queen’s artisan, poet of love
crowned by a jewel so cruel
the girl who sees dancers through starlight
following a path to the beginning of it all
to a time when men were just fools

as the wind disperses snowflakes
all the beauty we see, born of such disarray
what is left in the remains, the stone and clay
but the salient silver sparks of yesterday?

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