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Feb 2022
somewhere between always and never
in an abstract space like a dark tunnel
a mosquito buzzes low
you're leaned back on your pillow
blanket outstretched on the pale green
looking up at a sky with no stars
country music plays softly from your radio
but there's nothing to hear
you reach into your back pocket
and pull out a portrait of mona lisa
with gum catering to her face
and sticking to your painted fingernails
smoke drifts softly off the orchards and ambient conversationsΒ Β 
there's empty tension as you hear the clink
of the wine glasses being passed around
silvery flowers are shivering in the empty moonlight
you're having a daydream while someone's talking
i think you're dreaming about a crow
its tracing your movements while you're walking
stomping across wet plants and muddy grass
and puddles in the road in yellow raincoats and dyed hair
holding mushrooms and butterflies
these soft discussions that go nowhere
are a backdrop for black and white images that mean nothing
you could catch a handful of rain as it trickles down
like a drop sliding down the side of a cup
you could empty that handful of rainwater
spread it out on the grass like
coins and diamonds layered on a glass table
you could be intertwined with your lover on the blanket
letting your whispers tickle each others ears
while the music from the radio plays skeleton keys
and dead notes
soon, your arm resting across a lover's chest
will taste the stinging warmth of the sun
as it breaks the morning sky into a million parts
and then you'll have to deal with the lazy poetic
imagery of the new day
bees will hum against the dew coloured flowers
hazy orange heat melting into mirages
will reflect off car windows
and burn your feet on the inky black tar
and you'll have to stare at the hearts etched into legs
so to all the ceiling fans that stopped spinning a long time ago
your friends raise a glass and say
"hello never
how may i be of assistance
it seems to me you've lost something
i would like to help you find it"
the skies are darker than usual and the clouds are greyer
the sunlight is warmer and friendlier
the green is wet
words and dialogues are more abstract than ever.
plants are playing in the suburban boredom
the pool is sunburned

there's a ladybug on your leg.
say goodnight to it while you still have the chance.
these visions of Johana are all that remain
Written by
Sad-Eyed Boy of the Lowlands  121/address/unknown
(121/address/unknown)   
69
 
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