painting with words.
theres this place.
i wont say its dark.
but it lacks a shade of colour.
a hopeless canvas
paint you a picture?
but why?
when it's concept is discarded.
brushed into a mix of mischanced past.
how soluble am i?
when as pale as water?
it desolves with rage
a movement of red
from the verry tip of your scythe
i await this restful sculpture
its my 1st in a verry, verry long time
.