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
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