This is where we shave birds.
Wear rings on our toes.
And speak in no words.

This is where souls decompose.
Thirst quenched only by ink.
And a dog with no nose.

This is where frogs quack.
A sky full of grass.
And the only colour is black.

This is where nowhere is.
A place of no balance.
And the mind is permitted to be unstable.

© Joko