Lord knows I’ve seen the end.
Judgement day came in the form of silenced mouths carrying the scratching of cardboard signs.
Beg for mercy I had to.
But did the sun return?
This is a national emergency for my head and it has officially been declared as the saddest moment in history, never to be seen in the books.
The storm can take me, I’m feeling like flying; in need of a grand finale. A traveller of worlds but only looking for you.

Paint the town red you mad art critic I’m madly in love with. A fine eye for it dare I say, a lady elegance from the tip of her hair down to her untuned laugh, see she was different because I could never paint and I’d glance over as she crafted beauty late into the night realising that she was the reason for all the colours I saw in my life.

She was a true rainbow queen of the pallet and when the colours came together I fell apart.

If this was love then put me in the art store that we passed so many times to watch her paint; for nothing is more beautiful than her heart and mind that intertwine with heavens soul.

Three sit contained in one generation with ****** eyes and hopes but only held high.

Addictive by nature when everything is nature in a life long reign of influence to commit the highest atrocities with laughter.

The eldest of us tells of his life stories, begging us to learn from his experiences as he loses three bills to a happy go-lucky machine - I call that taxable hope.

Encapsulated from the world, far too caught up in the atmosphere to want to see the stars but until then let us hunker down and find shelter in the weeds.

If I tried to make you love me over ducks feasting on bread, the finest glass bottles containing the cheapest white wine, with charity shop ventures where we thrift shopped like the cool kids, the times I’d look into your eyes and immerse myself in your soul - I suppose I got distracted.

When we fed the ducks at the duck pond overlooking that beautiful church I think back to the ripples in the water and they told a different story.

They told me you were sad and I didn’t want to believe it. They swayed together in defiance to your departure yet still you departed.

It was too late to change the tide but now when I feed the creatures at the pond you can see ripples created by drips that fall down my face.

Never seen a painting as pretty as her,
She’s got texture to her but more importantly she’s bold and she’s courage.
You frame her to the world anonymously sharing her elegance would be far too generous, crime to humanity even I assure you.
When the sun shines on her, ****, do you sink into a *** of love feeing lucky but you only got lucky once.
Trying to restore beauty where beauty needn’t be restored.
Chipping away at her stature until you chisel too deep and she crumbles into your hands, that? That is indeed damnation.
So the painting becomes a picture, then a memory, then it just f   a   d   e    s   a     w     a      y