Of dwarfed cliff tops and egg-shelled bombs

Of an abyss of worms that lived of greed

Earlobes stuffing inwards, deaf to its deeds

In windpipes clogged with lies

In revulsive laughters belched from boardroom highs

While people wailing over their fears and tears

Sing elegies to their gone-by years

I gasped and smirked in my many mouths

Feeling the burdened sighs and elusive highs

I turned over and saw a child in a moon

Its deep silence that tugged at fear and hope

I saw a grace fall from here

And ascend many miles into stars that disappear

I saw the child with its eyes gaped once and shut then

Looking at eerie wombs, its twisted cords

I woke up in my sleep and slept by my side

Seeing eons on a receding stride

Is the dream turning its last bend

Finding the nightmare in its own end.

And the beginnings of my sleep

How do I know my journeys have begun

When I have no idea of how they are born

Why is my clay always wet and dancing

And my mould never found despite searching

Why are my butterflies always vagrant

And my rainbows leaping to nowhere

Why are my thoughts aimless and lost

And my heart adrift without its clinging past

Where do I want to go

When I don't know where I am

Can I be lost in melodies of chance forever

And not stumble upon the dull streets of life

Can my clay always be wet. And full of life.

Can my clay always be wet. And full of life.