closed stone apertures , dingy gaps , cave holes
tightly snapped , gripped, tracking apps retracting back, trying to close swallow grit down with pints of snow swallows emerge from nested shallows shielding, .. yet viral shadows follow. Bone marrow, borrowed from tomorrow's blood transfusions, infused with blood red sorrow. Not the same old too -and-frow.. oh no... Go for a walk, tread the same tired steps away from dread. Wash your inside face in alcohol. Numb the feeling , strum the rails , clasp tightly to bony walls. You can't leave it at home. Its there in your head silly boy. Stagger across a road, almost run over by a red speeding wheelbarrow. Get back in the hedge a leafy hug and place to hide and join Swallow in it's nest. Curtain drawing across beating chest vision draping , curling wings like feathered fingers getting ready to sing. Better think of something. This head needs a new tune , a new ring tone and a new head for this body to follow. Come this way , meander that way but stay off of the same old road. A year of writing the same old . Drawing the same old. just looking for a hand to hold.
0 Comments
Your comment will be posted after it is approved.
Leave a Reply. |
by Paul Sinclair
Archives
November 2020
Categories |