Lovechild

Born from Moonbeams
And from sunshine
And from black streams
And the daytime
With brushes
And pencils
No crushe
No stencils

Danced a lovechild
Born from
the wreckage
of vanity
taken
from what we call
Hope
What we call
Pain
And all things
Unvain

And yet
she gets
Her feet
caught
in
glass

As she twirls
And she leaps
And she jumps
And she weeps
Till moon rises above us
Like a grin

Oh the wind!
Oh the wind!
Little girl,
yes the wind!

It can take
Yes it takes
Your
Dreams

A
w
A
y
On
A
Magic
carpet

So take Moonbeams
And some sunshine
And the black streams
And the daytime
Take your Brushes
And your pencils
Without Crushes
Or the stencils

And let the night make love
To the
Day

My Gods

Let the night make love to the day

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Written while with Mono, possibly fevered. Not sure what was up with this
possibly poetic "i am the walrus" sort nonsensical nonsense. It produced itself.
Don't
Look
At
Me
My Gods
Look at the Mono.
And my giant spleen.