Central Face

I answer to the norm the strangest decorum in the Northern Hemisphere I have a longing to be free Burning seeds their husks weep In valleys of sleep Two tulips niggardly cling to the hereafter Vultures visceral and cruel Trolls the words of Kings Jabberwocky on surfeit fleets Mirrored in the midnight Sun Teeth chattering shadows in the midday furnace interlaced with solemnity Primal flights of fear sanguine coloured dreams Deep brown rocks we found shelter The Moon appeared The Goths in Penguin suits jaded past the point of no return