Pink and Jagged

[sunflowerAlys]

How come great things only happen when I'm not in the mood?
The last time I was here there was a revolution
Now there's old yellow paint on my elbows
And photographers running to catch the bus
I don't know the meaning to half of those.
But there's pink clouds in the sky
And a moon half full
And the city before me looks functional
There's a strange kind of frantic stillnes
Purple and bruised
And flowers blossomong out of my armpits.

You say I only write for myself
You're true
And your truth, it holds me like
a towel after bath
If I am an artist to you
I'll smile
The dust the wind blows knows I'll return home
to a warm television
Once the night here gets too crowded
with figaments.

And I love him still and i love him
still
I'm attempting on a jagged love song
an abstract swan song.

[kidder]

'And your truth, it holds me like a towel after (a) bath' What a wonderful, tactile image!
The first four lines contain fascinating observations and offer a reader promise. That's why we read ahead. Keep it up!

[dreamergirl]

i don't know what to say other than i like it

[sunflowerAlys]

thank you very much. i'm not so confident with this one. oooh now i have to go to school!

[littleskinny]

*claps* I really enjoyed this one honey! Too many great moments to quote but I must repeat once more:

"How come great things only happen when I'm not in the mood?
The last time I was here there was a revolution
Now there's old yellow paint on my elbows
And photographers running to catch the bus"

"The dust the wind blows knows I'll return home
to a warm television"