zebrasindenver

Oh my dear friend how you have misjudged me,

i am not frowning,

i have just turned happiness on its head.

Connect the dots with the lines of my face.

How all these scars are starting to link together to form an armour,

makes me wonder if i could even bleed anymore,

would you ask me too again,

will you watch me if i say yes,

can you let me?

Fragile steamroller over broken bottles of love.

The sky was the most beautiful grey last night as we drove home from Masson,

A light rain fell opaquely obscuring ever so faintly the roadside,

Such an heroic grey, with whispers of a British fall,

The landscape quiet, before nightfall, almost a photo, a backdrop for

a rolling cigarette to rap music and then home.

I have grown tired of painting other peoples pictures,

my words and my actions are my own,

and so forth should follow the hand to paint

as my soul through these words and poems has grown.