Producing love from the remnants
Scraping together all the excess joys
Those neglected in the dire nights
Reformed into a splendid noise
Never believing the crooked ones
Doubts & rebuffs will not hold true
Keeping the mind above the skeptics
For love will endure & awaken you
But our dreams drip
Memories frothing to the surface
Unknown to the exterior
Remnants of our innocence Miss
Complications of misinterpretations
Dwelling in this unfailing mess
Stepping gently away at this time of night
Always remember you in that short gingham dress
Liberation granted by the morning alarm
Still alive; this body aching with rippling fatigue
October visions, yet I’m safe from obvious harm
Visions dwindling; remnants of horrific intrigue
Seeking out coffee to loosen this slumber
A stretch & chance to deliberately mourn
These dreams encrusted in burnt umber
Sworn to abide by the wisdom of Nat Hawthorn
The terror that befalls us when we’re unaware
Soon free from the slow tolling of the funeral bell
Needful sleep caught us within a nightmare
Unconsciously breaking from a manufactured hell
Visions of dropping acid with William Blake
Dawn is our escape; returning to peace as we wake
Textured mornings
Sitting around waiting on the French press
Remnants of dreams & pleas
Filtered through a truncated dress
Beneath lies details
Of scattered lace & bows
But in the end, emotion far outweighs my prose
Captain Q 