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Text reblogged from DANE MARTIN with 28 notes
The Professor’s Song
When dust runs down the pretty pipe
And makes a brand new dream,
There always is a rustling sound
In the pipe’s most pretty seam.
The pipe pulsates and twitches twice,
But never will it bend.
Tomorrow is a dreaming day
With enemy and friend.
The dreams will get into your throat
And make your eyes feel thick.
You will feel like a captain’s goat—
Elegant, yet sick.
And spring will come soon and thee
New flowers shall bring catastrophe.
Whoever said dreams had no seasons or weeks
Never lived up to their valleys and peaks.
Dreams are like paper inside of a tree.
They are not real yet, but soon they will be.
It never hurts to pray and hope
That the person you love is made of love soap.
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amongthedays said:
I had no idea you were a poet, too!
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