They slept in a chamber bed
and when they woke they had their bread
they had three meals a day
Under the sheets, and what a treat!
a frolic in the hay
they crawled inside each other’s heads
held hands but not a word was said
in the too large king sized bed.
They had their lunch three times a day,
as queens and kings they languid lay
Their genocide in silent rows
on an unmade bed the rose
was white upon the face
amidst the windswept desert sands
inside the barren western lands
they found the Kingdom of the Ants
and lay about as in a trance,
watching rows of worker ants
climb down the fridge
onto the bed
the soldiers shouted in their heads
After a wistful genocide,
The kingdom of the ants had died
King nor queen shed tears nor pined
Still in their dream world on the sheets
The Living Kingdom in their head
And silent not a word they said.
Their one week in the land, their glee
living out each other’s dreams
quicksand white hands upward reach
worried a white face kneeled
like water in the wind she spilled
her disappearing scream.
without mouths they cannot say
figures upon the blue screen lay
The Kingdom of the ants had gone
they found a kingdom of their own
of lazy days and the whispers touch
the jesters bed was big enough.
No more cars or discount stores
just endless checkered marble floors
and fiends of flowers in the field
two figures rolling in the hills00
a chandelier above their head
their eyes still closed in bed
appears the lady in a crimson red
no need for food, no need for flair,
Just to be together there.
brandon the writer | author & staff writer for sir swag 