Land of the Surreal

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Winged mountains,
Turned upside down
Fallen stars,
Rising up from the ground
Faceless men,
Shoes upon their hands,
Mittens covering their toes,
As they eat of the sand
Plants consume the lions,
As gazelle scare them away
Lambs sacrifice the people,
While cattle sharpen their blades
Corpses bury the living,
Always smiling with no flesh
Caskets rattle and scream,
As their contents suffocate to death
Manuscripts sign their names,
Blood upon their quills,
Along the sides of men,
As they are swallowed up by pills
Dogs walk their humans,
Speaking as if they are dumb
Shackles and chains adorn our race,
Trapping us outside while our bodies go numb
The tiny mouse roars,
Serpents flee for their lives
Buffalo sprint upon two legs,
Hunting down the helpless tribes
Clocks spin backwards,
The wind bundles up in a heap
Our Earth does not spin,
When we lay in bed, asleep





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