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■ I know what you're thinking, father
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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2009-07-13 | | Submited by Marius Surleac
The worlds are breaking in my head
Blown by the brainless wind That comes from afar Swollen with dusk and dust And hysterical rain The fading cries of the light Awaken the endless desert Engrossed in its tropical slumber Enclosed by the dead grey oceans Enclasped by the arms of the night The worlds are breaking in my head Their fragments are crumbs of despair The food of the solitary damned Who await the gross tumult of turbulent Days bringing change without end The worlds are breaking in my head The fuming future sleeps no more For their seeds are beginning to grow To creep and to cry midst the Rocks of the deserts to come Planetary seed Sown by the grotesque wind Whose head is so swollen with rumours Whose hands are so urgent with tumours Whose feet are so deep in the sand
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