Words of Dreams

When we fuck with words
We fuck with the synapses of people we love.
It is an inbuilt construct,
With arcs like a fairy’s wings,
With chest pain as old as time. 

If you’re trying to lick skies like lollipops,
Then candy cannot be found in life,
Candy is the world’s fear and submerged kiss
Of a faith I could hardly tell you,
When sunlight’s as black as dried blood,

A god that was never there when my tears fell
Like mud onto the cold hard floor where I murdered all the feelings
Of every mother, son, and cousin.
Even friends lay like egg yolks and their insides spluttered,
Like the whites of their eyes.

When we fuck with words
We fuck with the synapses of people we love.
It is an inbuilt TV set,
With more channels than islands,
As limited as time on Earth,

As short as youth.

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