Blowing smoke into the night
inhaled from a mini pipe
twisted with colors
I did not choose

My wispy gaze into rain
summons from the gone past pains
the deepest red hurt
faded, cloudy

and grey

What lost I no longer remember in color doubles affect in its audible cracks
Following in footsteps wherever intuition leads. Happily? Misery? In madness and smiling
What lost no longer hangs over in color but lives always in minute hands

I chose