The mournful

Full of sleep I dream a dream
about selling coffee to netzines
a pure musk coffee beaten off the beats
where pull down curtain of memory flappers
and all the beast among the mice
eat rotten woodwork
I know her since the milky way songs
now she has become calm when in morning
all was to teether in the garden
The net-zines have come closer
there is a fraud for a mystery
about dozen paintings missing as stolen
I live by the coffee shop
where ezines circle as the last hope avatar
then they would take to battle on the streets
the lined cars as starships waiting in the wee hours of morning
to lull into daily sleep again.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s