A Poem by nothing grinner

A dream i had reasently.

The dream in which I walked an innocent path
It felt like an old fable up until-
I cast my eye upon the Cradle
To see the rotting balloon baby
Stitches all over its frameless body,
I could only laugh
For that was the sound of my terror,
Be for running from such horror.
Its parents stand obese beside it, gibbering subhuman slobs,
Slobbering there concern
They spoke-
�It�s our baby its, our baby�
Then the foetus repeats thus-
That image grotesque
Baking in the heat of that over bright sunny day.
It�s what dreams are made of.

© 2008 nothing grinner

Author's Note

nothing grinner
This is based on a dream i had recently, was very disturbing!

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f****n aswome sounds like my dreams...

Posted 14 Years Ago

Vivid... It makes me think of some relatives of mine.

This is disturbing, but maybe it means something. I won't try to analyze in this review, but, its very interesting and though provoking. Chilled me to the bone...

Posted 14 Years Ago

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2 Reviews
Shelved in 1 Library
Added on April 22, 2008


nothing grinner
nothing grinner

Hull, England, England

i'm a student illustrator in my second year at university. i studied at the hull school of art and design. i like to write poems, lyrics and short stories as well as my painting and drawing. i love mu.. more..


TS might not be Frost or Eliot but combined with Nix they made music. Perhaps another colab?...
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