Wandering listlessly along the banks of irony
Living in a cardboard box of hopes and dreams
When the rain comes it crumbles easily.

There is a malign whisper from the distance
A man in a dark black suit
Grinning mute until you sleep

The ashes of coalish thoughts floating upon the river bank
Of dreams that start to sink
Deep into icy depth of rotting stink.

With no direction home, there is nowhere for a brain to go
It rots inside it's teeth, failing to bite into the meat
Of the life put on your plate.

Beware of Nick your mother said,
Do not live too much inside your head.

Take control of your reigns
And do not let him spoil your dreams.

10/06/2011

Posted on 10/07/2011
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