Poly was a bird that used to know all the words I taught it, so Polly is now deep underground, locked with the sound, never knowing its whereabouts.
Goodbye Polly’s wonderland, caged inside the lucid mind, a fading memory of the formour wonderland, speaks powerful words down in the mineshaft, spooked by the deepened hollow space.
So long, the bird of prey. How will one imagine such heights, flown in the clouds, perched on the highest steeple. No more second hand smoke, billows in this life, but lost in the fog.
Polly’s last words, one last thought in this free sound. Surrounded by darkness, locked in the cadge, so clean yet so dark, Polly breaths while there is dust in the wind.
Too soon to have flown, rise up to this deeper internal monolog, doused in flames of this digitized analog. Who was the creator? Who was the matchmaker? Cast out in exile, withholding a logical reaction.
Hits Poly harder, faster than rewind, faster than the wind fragments the sound. Enter this fellowship, trust in a maker, backwards in reverse, to revise the verberating code. Looking for a good time, flicking the switch, this itch hits Polly in the veins.
Polly is skipping the electric hiss that hits like a sensual kiss. Did something seem a miss? Poly’s hidden interest was lost in the preset of this static bliss.
Will meet you in the caves of the mindshaft, something that shall outlast this platonic pin hole, blissed out in another soul. I could never have been so blind, Polly taught love, but it fades away too fast.
©thegizz211
T