|"Jake the Dreaming" by Android Jones|
The noises inside my head,
they are like tantrums of a little boy:
the pounding and kicking like drums,
the fighting and the clashing of swords.
A pen in hand, and ink pot next to that,
I draw the fantasies inside my head:
Dragon breath, flames emblazoned
Upon a shield it clashes like a hot temper.
A war cry sounds forth from the trumpet
and all of the battlefield can hear
as the slicing and dicing comes, like tomatoes
their limbs fall upon the ground,
dead and limp.
The noises inside my head swirl in circles
like a cyclone ready to clash against land;
the very particles of my brain coincide,
and as the waves crash against the bow
the salty taste of adventure dries my mouth.
Words spill out of the skull and shackles,
like shiny doubloons and silver trinkets,
and the noise of solemn plunder.
As I sit here at my desk and ponder,
in a room full of darkness,
about the noises inside my head.
Emptying the ink pot to the very last drop
Emptying my cranial archive, so that I may
Live in peace and silence.
Oh how I miss her tempered grace;
That sweet honey covered silence.
It lasts but only a moment of bliss
Until yet again my inner voice lingers
Begging for closure and comfort.
Again come the noises inside my head,
thumping and pumping up a storm
lightning cracking across the night sky
in a flash, clapping of thunder aching
the corners of my membrane office.
Maybe one day I could quell the noise
But for now I will sleep in silence.
Question: "How quiet are the dreams inside your head?"