DG (9/19/1963 / )

Pitchfork Freudian Dream

the past is present in this
pitchfork freudian dream, you
learn to skedaddle and giggle,
as this bipoler rain hits your
hands then feet.
still you cry, i cant escape me,
you hear me, i cant escape me.
the past is present in this small
room, he paints all the walls white,
she paints them gray and brown,
and they cry, i cant escape me,
you hear me, i cant escape me,
then this dream ends, and this
bipoler storm turns into nothing
more, , then a small wave.

User Rating: 5,0 / 5 ( 4 votes ) 3

Comments (3)

Fantastic title, fine work indeed
Hi David, Excellent poem and very creative and unique. Take care
Awesome language, as only can be expected by these pennings of surrealism... David, `you continue to impress, my friend. Frank