Midnight calls, with a gray melody the tone rings.
Silent nights, the raindrops fall on heart beats strong emotions.
Waves of heat crash the syllables on the coast of oceans.
Trapped in a state of mind, catastrophe keeps the body frozen.
Away while the ground leaves a void between the floating.
Lifeless bodies surround the gates of hope and…
Suddenly the grip of reality is a pain,
so let’s manifest with the alchemist to dull the senses.
Numb from the leaves found on Flanders fields,
the veins stay laced and tingle, questioning the minds of virtuous men even Shakespeare wrote with an opium pen.
Villainous men, live in villainous pens, castles built on hallucinogens.
So let’s speak to our friends, our fathers who art in heaven – Michelangelo’s pristine, or Picasso’s reverence.
What canvas it may be, surrenders my liberty, so if death that it be, let it speak poetry to set it free.