One more flower, one more fish
there is a pattern in all of this
yellow eyes, eyes that do not fit
sipping on pink thoughts of
forgiveness
and charm
there is no harm
in clouds and slipping on words to
let them out,
white noise in the back.
Blue that turns to black in
the corners of your eyes
time
that does not know
green
or the hues in-between
showing off parts that are
(sometimes)
better left unseen--
one more fish.
There is a pattern in the dark of
madness
there is a flower that cries with
a few sets of different eyes,
maybe not now or here
but all in due time
                all in due time
                          all in due time
tears do not fall when they swim
in a lovemix of alcohol

Blackfish; still loved black.