a fork
in the ankle

kites
flying in the air

a deranged pirate
giving orders
which sound like opinions
of a battered soul

unanswered questions
silence the night

lopsided brainwaves
mess up
the once good dreams
a comfortable night
used to bring

and a fork
remains in an ankle
yet no pain is felt
no rose is smelled
no life is lost

but the deranged pirate
lives on with a battered soul