unsilent

The wind Trickles me into the crevices still undiscovered.
I dance with LA grenouille verte.

Cette une maladie inguérissable, Lolita me dit.
Petite génie tout Jaune bouclé!
I believe her and love her for it,
                                 the precious little Alice bird
that captures my Truth when I am not looking.

Flakes descend from the frozen skies of the East,
The Witches of the Mont Cackle, Call and Prepare
                                  the next SweaT of collected wet eyeballs that turn
                                  in the skulls of the ignorant.
Stones are selected, counted, placed in a simple burning row.
They wait for the clarity that will arrive through the streams of the Aurore, reaching deeply into the roots of the great Golden Oak.

Please TURN it indicates before you cross the threshold
of ancient memories urgently evaporating.

Hidden answers blanketed with lies ravelled so tight
that the center tears to shreds.
SHOVE it into your pocket and hope it turns to unrecognizable LINT!!
That's what you do sunrise after sunrise.

I used to cry,
But now I don't have the time.
The party girl stays UNsilent to the cracks in the floor.
The party girl softens her Wings and sings,
this biRd NeedS To FLY  

caramel,
chocolate hazelnuts,
créme brulé,
gelatine kisses,
pie voleuses kitchen adventures,
tattoo territories,    
dentist dope,
poetry nights,
metal melodies,
leopard feet,
rose bodies.
These are a few of her Favorite things!

In the loudness of her eyes she hears the chime
of the Gunshot. 666.