Spectrum is Not Green

by Michelle Allwood
12th February 2018

 

 

Blue Black we’ve been attacked

while the blood

runs slow, and

veins awaken

from their padded cells

nowhere left to go

in this mess of flesh

bubbled and bust

their reason for being is lost

in this unfed soul

 

Baubles they droop

and wormwood lies spooked

Stocking tops goose flesh raw

there’s a shock in store,

scheming, sweeping vistas of flesh gone awry

swollen madness echoes a time gone by

 

Do not be fooled

by these cloud bathing blues

marbles loosen

their understanding of darkness and delight

Shadows sent to protect from what’s above

it’s nearer now

this time of year,

falling faster deeper ever near

Birds sleep while carousels weep

mashed up dreams of open heath

cemeteries begin to speak

 

cobwebs crumble to delicate dust

and nerves escape their jars to confront

the beast which lies beneath

whose breath whimpers a seagull’s call

Ivy reaches skin’s palest palette

for the intricate tattoo

Mere figures trapped in a machine

which will not be renewed.

 

 

 

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