jennysaysno, this has been my anthem for the past month. I just can’t stop.
The paintings of Zdzislaw Beksinski
Your pores expel heavily, as you speak
of the films screened during your sleep.
Last night, you graciously allow a robbery-
Your grandmother lays hesitant,
and your eyes remain glazed.
Last week, you kidnap two strange men-
They crawl throughout a brick warehouse,
while midnight’s wrath ravages you whole.
Last month, the free-falls occur relentlessly,
and your feet quicken endlessly.
I’m fascinated by the morning imagery you portray,
yet your dreams’ interpretation causes my heart to ache.