another poem

By Dawn Good

To dance the dance of a lovers last chance is to chance a dance on the ledge of a pedophiles pants whil you look into the abyss of a dying mans wish with the eyes of a newborn child.

Going to the top of the widest rock and abiding the sliding of a dream where all you do is scream while jumping in as your hair falls out of step and rythym and rhyme of time where nothing is as it seems.

Be one to see the candy tree as it falls in the sea on a blind mans knee where those who look on are gone to have fun with the candy bees who have lost there trees in this planet of those who flee.

Written by Dawn Good

*publish the bugger pls

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