About
Stale misery
Orange trees blossom in fruit and dry heat
fireworks light like dying star strewn skies,
torn feet cry with the burden and the beat
of short lived beauty and stories of lies.
Buildings stack up like fate and prison bars,
rusted red souls lined up for recycled air,
puddles of stale misery drowns and tars
Faces, leaving black eyes with a blank stare.
Colors muted and swirling in circles,
frames of solitude dance in a parade,
composition isolating lone Gulls,
a note of discord, a perception raid.
Shoot photographs and take cigarette pulls
Comments
Viewing 10 of 20 comments.