Poetry/

Feed the Dragon

Blogs



REPUBLISHED ON :

I don’t need to do anything, they will do it for me.
Just sit here on my throne of petals and read
bleeding screams I wrote in her mind,
come on, shy and graceful moth
she is driving me off, this is an oil
summit sunset, a painting on a glass
drying up, draining down, down, down…

‘What car I am driving, a steering sliding wrong way,
this girl must think I’m so nice and funny,
I want everything today, I don’t even wear the makeup
-Montagne Rouge - but wait?!-
where I am, there is nothing in this town,
only the shadows, where are my children?’

It’s not a scary kind, it’s that ultra-fine dread
that leaves you without a sound or power to defend.
Feed the Dragon, feel the Anger!
You can’t kill a god, it happened before.
Big black cold cloud and nothing on the impact
-you, a perfect Muppet - not believing it.
You’re believing it!

Everything that walks with your name,
they need so little, be aware,
when I dust the sand off their clothes and eyes
see the terror when a fairy-tale
substitutes with the madness, this is an oil
summit sunset, a painting on a glass
drying up, draining down, down, down…

I’m already in there, but don’t show her my picture.
It’s magic, it’s a magical being!
And this is a pet cemetery, the hearth is falling,
cracking in the million fragments there and now,
don’t forget to call just to be sure.
It’s magic, it’s a magical being!

It’s not a scary kind, it’s that ultra-fine dread
that leaves you without a sound or power to defend.
Feed the Dragon, feel the Anger!
You can’t kill a god, it happened before.
Big black cold cloud and nothing on impact
-you, a perfect Muppet - not believing it.
You’re believing it!

𝒶𝓈𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓉𝓇𝒾𝒶