It's grey. It's jelly. Blue-green snake crossing new sandy patch.
Baby believe me, Biloxi betrays me. Saw you in drawn out hues.
Herding colour and tone.
We hear your tears & my misunderstanding.
Hold on to me.
Momma' pull in. Yes this gift for thee. The sun to shine by noon. The moon we'd pull closer. What this flower sings is memory. A true friend, your palette. Mine laughing & muddled. The thunder and the lightning heal my wounds. Waiting on the refresher. The coarse discourse of loneliness. I'm prepared.
Maybe yours, maybe mine.
Napkin on the table, swaddle my newborn with the damp one.
Wishing for that lonesome whistle's cry. It's almost mine.
Somewhere in the graveyard. If I hadn't asked, you'd remember. Turn away. If you hadn't asked, I'd be there.
Looking back, it's me getting better. From there, it's me getting out of here.
I pull ticks out of Lethe so as not to run this anger dry