Monday, May 21, 2018

It's All A Game - Surreal Poetry

 It's All A Game

We run through the back of your head
Sticking to the last carbon copy
Selected the square within 30 seconds
Became the next hero
The three heads are hidden safe
Find the chicken that lays too many crooked pineapple rings
The lever tilts back to zero
A vicar with tea cups as hands squeezes an unclear outcome
Twilight offerings from a dizzy slut giving birth to a stolen car
As the sky becomes an infinite pool of blue tapestry
We are absorbed by one half of the sun
I press my face up against the glass wall
Your twitchy third eye picks up on errors
Somebody has restrung the marionette as her dance becomes out of sync
Game Over



by Sam Freek

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Author: Sam Freek

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