My dream factory's kissed by danger. | 1 |
Strangers in shadows, | 2 |
mad men fingering blow up buttons, | 3 |
fronting blown up cartoons, | 4 |
parodies of themselves in quadruple. | 5 |
| |
To do or not? Who knows? | 6 |
The question's how fast i can lead this lead back, | 7 |
put this pencil in reverse, | 8 |
before they make a mess of everything or worst. | 9 |
| |
I wake in a sweat, sketch crumpled in my fist. | 10 |
A scrunched finger still manoeuvres, | 11 |
moved by a night breeze. Smell of magnolia | 12 |
floats through window as i rub the button out. | 13 |
The finger still lifts across an empty space. | 14 |
Still looking to dictate. | 15 |
Searching out a place to press itself down. | 16 |