fauxcroft

Dripping paint from canvases

Colours mixing in the flux,

Shimmering flickering neon light

Resonating various lux,

The haphazard brush strokes can be seen

Like a nightmarish scene,

Awakening in dripping sweat

I scream at this surrealist dream,

I hear the dripping of water

As if subjected to torture,

I stand strong and show no fear

But shadows appear out of the dark quarters,

And I hear the cries of those being slaughtered

But I strive for freedom from this place

Of ongoing abstract oblivion,

I see the blood flow down the walls

In sickly clotted vermilion,

The chances of surviving this is one in a million.