There are mansions in my head
some half built and others painted red,
but each on its own,a
home for my thoughts
of which there are many.
Any one of which of whichever one I'm in
teaches me something and I can begin
to learn.
Some mansions are cold,some are quite old and
others brand new,some centrally heated in these I am
seated on quilts made of dreams unpicking the seams
of my days in the night.
I might decide to override the imperative,dismiss the
narrative and demolish the lot,
I might not and
that's what the mansions are for,each door that I go through
leads me to thoughts which are brand new,
it bothers me though that some are painted red,
I don't like that colour,
I prefer blue or green,red's just
obscene and angry,
is that me?
angry?