I?m painting blue murder on bathroom walls
because I was never one for screaming,
spinning tales with the tiles
who speak like Braille on my finger tips.
We?re talking in tongues and tripping on
tea and camellias whilst the
grout runs rivets down my spine,
straight tacked, flat backed,
dried against the skin.
I strike bargains with angels in pinafores
who peddle watches through my dreams,
asking time in return for restless sleep
but they want too much of me.
It?s colder than space with Laurence?s stars,
no, not wonderful, but dreadful,
and no, not dreadful, not really even stars at all.
I keep looking for a window when there isn?t one
with a rip in my throat and acidic lips,
and the tiles are telling me all their hopes and aspirations
but I?m beyond caring anymore.

A little twisted but a good read.

Welcome to the site Midnight. Very good first post.

OOO that was good! More of these!

Thank you. writing is pretty much my life.

In the immortal words of Craig and Smokey.........
DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMN!!!!

That was freakin great!

Dayum!
nice twisting read...

refreshing thoughts...

welcome to the site with a good post