Clutching my stricken pen
It drips ink
Thinking high-browed riddles with dry ink stints
I attempt to rub it warm
To flow streams of running wet feet
I chase one dream within the eye of the nimbus storm
To assassinate pillow case feathers, to grasp sub-conscious reels
I’m shackled to an ossuary locket without a key and open socket
So I’ll murder all phantom intangibles’
Fantastic cadaver tapping an atom in-tango jerking japer crook
Give caster a terrestrial theme then watch him happily die again for just need
I’ll catch the bulls-eye before this cardiovascular skips its last beat
Oh-okay,
farmlands and cattle post are where people live by the flogging lasso
Sheppard’s watch over sheep huddles
Toting gun shots to any wolf pack looking to reduce the herd’s numbers
**Isn’t that the chained cycle of nature**
Plumage is a gutter bum, haggard crack-pot asking for starvation hand-downs
I float upon the horizon’s vast canopy
Caterpie shedding a cocoon to kill gravity like a soaring butterfree
So when the sun sails to the easterly-planes
I’ll open my mast and let this bark move on woods
Severe the anchor and blemish stagnant currents oddly
And I can’t be a marauding bandit
Lit candle stick, photographic candid camera pick
I hang factual myth
Burning truth at the melting stake
Virtue is my good grace; salty fingers are a welcomed ace
Timeless sun-dial, prehistorical dim-watt
Brass horns sing aloud quite proud
Asking to get polished so as to gleam for the crowd
That’s a Barbie-doll fortress with superficial modelling rings
I want a mirror
Just to annoy my shallow mirror image
To giggle, when it cringes in silence
Truth kills form so substance should live forever
False impressions reflect cookie cutter facades
Think hard
Gravity is just another mirage
Right, the Wright brothers proved that flight could easily be done
So force weighing anything down, clearly not a tick like a dot in light

By: Phantom Gargoyle