Words Strewn On Black Clouds Poem by Mikel Calcagno

I write it on a piece of paper; 'I'll see you on the other side'
Watch out for the crimson glory, your number at the back of my hand

Critically we swim away as we laugh the tears away
The ambient air filled with particles of illusions
Your black-brow eyes, not knowing the past-'Do not take this elevator'
Seven songs unsung, hear all the radioshows craving for your voice
Marked in grey essence, the evidence is fading

Overtures in red dresses, the soprano pointing at the undressed lady
She knows, definitely she knows

Vascular malformations-possession of the devil inside the ebony cage
This is the moment to use the gel
Get inside from behind

From behind, get inside