The explosion of water from a tap
The colors of the rainbow are mapped
The voice of the sky is scratched
The life as I die is crap.
The girl scout cookies are stale.
The coffee a permanent ring that has rung
As I watch the fire fail
I am the last note he has sung.
You are the tree
I am the axe
The one that is free
Is not the one in the cask
The paper that is folded
The life that is moulded
The patience corroded
The Prince demoted
The alarm is bleeping
Fucking the world with it
The tea is steeping
The news is spewing shit
You are the lines
I color outside
The final notice signs
The lowest tide
Erase
Pace
Admit
Defeat
GOOD FUCKING MORNING AMERICA
The Writing Den 