Rocking Horse Night

There are pictures of flowers on the walls of your room
Rocking horses, a sense of the impending doom
There are roses and lilies with faces so evil
Don't hold me as I slip away into their poisoned bloom

My bones turn to dust as I see it from the outside
While the time rolls like a burning reel
My organs are laundered and dried in the moonlight
In the midst of our broken Purim spiel

There are pictures of flowers on the walls of your room
A sacrilegious temple where the fire trees loom
I flow out through the cracks in the patterns
I dissolve in the world, it is comfortable in its' womb



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