There's no joy in flicking the dominoes
like cleaning so tight in between your toes,
My pain is an empty bottle of sprite
that once your gorgeous eyes set alight...
There are no heroes when they betray you,
A lifetime of devotion you did pursue.
My hands are gathering wrinkles,
while your face is beautifully freckled.
The rain can take but it gives
a soaking that'll mean something
if you don't expect
what you shall receive.
Here I go again,
bottles piling
to a sunset
long lost set
and my once
colorful eyes
have died.
Dancing serpents
and promises
of sleep,
but my conscious
is too deep.
Those butterflies in my belly
are not the white noise on the telly
but hypocrisy
& I can't deal with the daily
so I drink instead....
Black and white pictures,
capture the soul,
like a boy and a girl
on a single bike,
he pedals and she
rides on the front
and they
both feel alive..