Scratches inside the skull

Hear the clouds, rolling and calling.
Rumbling across your spine.
Vertebrae by vertebrae it moves you.
Like a little child crying out in the dark.
The air gets heavy. And the rainbows die.
Anything you wanted, falls back.
Turns into time.
The rain you feel on your fingertips.
Are the tears you cried as a child, busting the dam.
Flooding your spirit, marking a way to the funeral of a childhood friend.
The one you wished the most for.
Built those dreams with sand and innocence.
Playback the videotape in your mind before the lightening burns the image.
Filling your eyes with fog and fury.
Of a lost dream, crumbled and put to sleep.
Snatched by the monsters and left to die in a foreign atmosphere.
Alone, in a time glass.
Covered each second in the sand of regret.


2 thoughts on “Scratches inside the skull

  1. I’ve been literally staring at the gif for 2 minutes now. I don’t know the scrolling of bursting skulls is entertainment for me…please have me committed.
    An overwhelmingly sinking feeling and robbery of those cherished moments of play and childhood joys.


    • It is painfully hypnotic…waiting for something different to happen to one of them, and it never does. I’ll meet you in that asylum, no doubt on the ceiling. I do think dreams change into something else usually, but some just die away with the passing of time. Sometimes sad, sometimes a heartache sidestep.

      Liked by 1 person

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