Beyond the canal and out in the open,
There’s a shot where I’m
brushed by the miniature haunts
of boys could’ve been,
Obscene red,
Seadragons are friendly commuters,
bouncing my knee then
yanked out of sight.
I’m right in the palace
chasing my souls,
Three ring a rosing as I go to move on,
Long into the rest
my guess nods off, I forget
to be chilled as they lose tone,
Alone with the ghosts,
rosy and floating,
The creepy doll children
are gloating
‘We escape you,
We’re free’.
