We were drunk on langour
Danced round the ethereal daisy chains
You wouldn’t call,
I wouldn’t have answered
Another clown Prince dream
I have a quick trigger finger
Death wishing my father’s hate
Me and my Capgras delusions
It was all good until the gun went off.
Did you cut off his head?
You are incandescent in all our eyes
You are the windows to our soul’s
The flashes of bright light at acknowledgment
Taught with a question,
Emporess where to next?
Meet when you see the confetti reports off south head
Dance away quiescent in the moon’s arc.
Capgras, eh? Bizzarre assortment
Yes I stole Capgras from a psychiatry blog post I was reading at the time don’t think it really works here though
Nice, Jason, like the layout as well! That’s a fine closing too, ‘the confetti reports’…..