Even raindrops find the grey sky depressing so they often run away and fall down to earth where they form gangs on the pavement like home torn youths, menacing enough to make people walk round them to avoid confrontation and the wetting of shoes. It takes a blue sky for the raindrops to rid themselves of the reds so they can go back home and form white fluffy clouds looking down at us in whatever shape they fancy until the next time the sky turns grey and the raindrops get pissed off with life enough to once again ruin my day.
in the realms of fabrication where dreams and nightmares undecidedly lose their brass tacks i was considering dancing a waltz when i came across a pseudo old chap
i asked him if he could curl ones liver as sobriety, melancholy and wistfulness had simply become to much to bare but he just shuffled and stared at me blankly and said 'que veut dire ceci?
deanbpm Poetry (2)