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Sombro Oct 2016
I hiss steam,
My kettle ringing desire
I guess we're
Worth what froths beneath...

Beneath inky depths that stain the skin
My yellow parchment, my dish and dash
Turn me, bury my roots for me
And I'll bear you grateful fruit.

Silence, patience
I can't wait for you to speak
I have to go
And paint a dread poem on my skin
Hmm
Sombro Oct 2016
A hobby is
Doing something crazy
Over
And over
Again and
Again
Until someone calls it pretty.
Not my usual poem, more just a thought
Sombro Oct 2016
So it's night
So it's dark
So it's quiet
So am I.

Bathed in electric shadow
I push blues and whites
In cream curdled from clouds
And shades of grey and green.

In politics and paint you're born
'Welcome to the world.
You're going to make someone very happy.'
Me.

So how many days
Can you spend in nights?
Let me know, faithless print
For eyes watch us, praying fondly.

I get confused, often
Spraxically distopic in a utopian person
We'll succeed together
We'll fly on splinted wings.

I can write love poems too, you know,
But I'm only here for the future
So let's wait, together
And work for something we still breath for.

I'm here for you being here for me
And I grow branches in the night's silence.
An ode to breathlessness
And the chill of flush for the quiet.
A mixture of feelings in this one. It's late. I love painting. I'm optimistic for my future, but only if I work hard enough for it. This is a message to myself. Possessed.
Sombro Oct 2016
I find myself
I'm dead in an ink page
Hostage in your photos
I'm sorry, sad I find living up to myself a scary ideal

But really, all I am is the clacking of teeth
And those who don't hesitate to remind me
Aren't nice, aren't my friends really,
'*** friends don't talk philosophy

I'm looking for what I see as me
I'm tired - worn raggish
I'm hopeless and bored
And fickle in the words I write

Ink paint is tinted blood
Water colour is see-through meaning
Mish, mash, mosh
Nice to meet what you see as me
Sombro Oct 2016
Fragile creature
Deeply steeped in bags
Of bold red and blue
Black, from lack of sleep
And painful, from want of hope

With cups that help me hear
And lines that make me smile
Social being socializes
And dying beings help the night sparkle.

While I tone, phone
Bring my lofty thoughts
Or else hatred
May be my *****

What can I say,
To rocks picked up by you
Can't I be collected, listened to
Hoped for like those others?

I hope so, I elope for that idea
And I cope, grow forth
Bashful plants turned brash
And flowering with colours not yet seen

Not yet considered by rocks or man

I am a petal.
Sombro Sep 2016
I have nothing more to teach you
For you have little more to learn.
All that's left to tell you, dear
Is cotton torn to burn.

Don't fix your jump on raucous bones,
For listening is done
With eager ears and cagéd breath
Without a thought for fun,

Without a thought for interest,
Without a thought for care,
I leave you lonely, such it is
To leave you dancing there;

And though your shouts shall echo on
I shall fade like paper
And though your ink on my skin scalds
You're still all I paid for.
Sombro Sep 2016
Like the birds
Who can fly free,
I have wings
When you're with me
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