Bent Colours

You’ll find me at the end of the rainbow… talking to my cigarette
where doubled colours bend, and golden puddles flow…
A frown – for all those hours, years delaying and lavishly spent –
running and chaising and wasting and paying my rent
finally dry but the skin under my mask’s so sore and wet
bothering and bordering on a fading brunette.

Guarded and wrapped in indigo… walking released any trace of regret
the path chosen … a subtle distinction but so much smoke to be exhaled
coughing and draining, remaining while so many have failed…
loyal ally open-hearted as noone never’s been – and I ask so sore and guarded
why you’re bothering ’bout me murmuring covered in cold sweat.

Dusty years are crumbling… and falling off those bony shoulders of this marionette
once been told and carved and jaded – now falls off infatuated
A dropping vapor – a throbbing heart – chillingly coated in rain I forget.
Still sleeptalking but reset and mind – a popping heart in my dancing bonny silhouette.


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