Painting my roses red

Remember all the

Bloody things they said

Wiping my hands

That bleed

Bleeding into the dirt

That groans under me

Constantly my dirty friend

Help me roll over again

There's a fence by the road

I should climb

It was there

That my palette

And I would wait

For our paintings

To flower and stitch up

The canvas on our return

Elbow on a broken seed

Opening an angry mouth

That bleeds

Times when the grounds

Crawling like mice

Are birds and like birds

Are men and me eyes

On either side

Of my head so never

Either eye shall meet

Firey come, firey go

Burning you memory on me

There’s an artist

Whose strength I admire

Who’s warming his feet

By my fire

These riches he owns

Aren’t the same

As the tokens we win

Playing games

We play outside






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