Folding the Void and Making Snowflakes

pepper

The chimes are ringing, as we run from
mouth to mouth, and across
rooftops of the faceless and nameless, who
leave our dreams and exist
as bookmarks,
bloody and beautiful and screaming,
as they spread themselves open
upon the pages we ignore
like love, when it’s too immediate, or
our shadows when they appear bigger
than our walls.
These angel breath fiends that jam with the sunrise
and our heartbeats
and turn whistles into stories
and our fathers into songbirds
and our mothers from whores with pretty shoes…
into dancers.
These relentless reminders
born within the skulls of forgotten purpose
and spend each blacked out birth
gift wrapping our desires
and filling the pockets of our eyes
so when we wake we can see,
who we really are.

rollings

pepper wrote:

The chimes are ringing, as we run from
mouth to mouth, and across
rooftops of the faceless and nameless, who
leave our dreams and exist
as bookmarks,
bloody and beautiful and screaming,
as they spread themselves open
upon the pages we ignore
like love, when it’s too immediate, or
our shadows when they appear bigger
than our walls.
These angel breath fiends that jam with the sunrise
and our heartbeats
and turn whistles into stories
and our fathers into songbirds
and our mothers from whores with pretty shoes…
into dancers.
These relentless reminders
born within the skulls of forgotten purpose
and spend each blacked out birth
gift wrapping our desires
and filling the pockets of our eyes
so when we wake we can see,
who we really are.

This is so good
I can't even describe it
each &every line can stand by itself as a "good poem"
and altogether, its just magnificent

it's like a familiar dream or something