Drift

Thoughts sinking like a stone in a river,

Violet fangs that make me shiver,

Shifting sands through timelines like butterflies,

Nailed to my ceiling of crimson skies.

A pit for the books that I'll never ever read,

A cemetary for my ghosts whom I'll never ever free.

Violins and painkillers to drift me away,

To candle-lit peaks where benadryl and fell demons play,

A stairway to Valhalla and I'll kiss dear valkyrie's feet,

As fine mist and elephant seals, in revelry meet.

And the waves exalt to drown my butterflies,

Pounding my ears with sweet sweet comalies,

And chess knights topple as I wake up to the dream,

Where the touch of your fingers, so real does seem.