by Gus Iversen
There are freshly dead ones
Shaking their skeletons disapprovingly
Like toys from overdeveloped countries
Towards the migraine of eternity
The blunted nuisance of choosing
A chandelier - a sun angle
For noises that install their own
Kinds of sense or something
Undefined and pure in meter
The skeletons that need to be told
When to wake up and go to bed and
Please lay down and be
My xylophone skeletons
Shaking their skeletons disapprovingly
Like toys from overdeveloped countries
Towards the migraine of eternity
The blunted nuisance of choosing
A chandelier - a sun angle
For noises that install their own
Kinds of sense or something
Undefined and pure in meter
The skeletons that need to be told
When to wake up and go to bed and
Please lay down and be
My xylophone skeletons