Children born in the sands of Eridan
listen to my dementia !
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To unreveal the mystery of words
stripped of their honeyed sweetness.
Let yourself be swept away
by the dizzying flight
of those birds of darkness
spinning in the clock\'s lies .
Hologram reflecting on the inner workings...
Intricate labyrinth of madness ,
illuminated by the spark of an artistic enigma.
Perhaps the blossoming of an autistic drama...
Each whisper of creativity ,
trebble clef to a forgotten dream
of ups and downs elephants flying
in a marzipan sky of duplicity...
Do you remember those cherubs
in the breadcrumb cottage of endless noon ?
Time traps us in a sepia-toned caprice of amber.
And we shall be alone ,sensing the echo
of a mute piano ...
And as the hours of ember call us
to the abyssal repose ...
I absconded a porcelain doll filled with stardust
to flee the obsessive carroussel
of Peter Pan\'s nuptial nightmare ...
slashed from that ghostly obsidian
of a lipless scream ...
who is this stalker lurking on crime boulevard ?
Before the translator comes to its senses
and let there be silence forever ...
Angels of Eridan you are nothing
but fallen infants...