A Rouge Facade
like resurrection from a bird's eye view
the camera angles reaked of tasteless
day time t.v.
like apparitions caught by a poacher's
pocket knife
the birds eye's blinked behind a bruised
sculpture.
wishing away with whatever you have
left only to gawk at what others don't.
contradiction is the name of the game,
roaring fields of copper hued lies
collect welfare shifting porous hearts
to soak up the worst of intentions.
you're figure of speech is growing
obese and it's silhouette seems to
look less flattering under a florescent
light.
coping with whatever you have left
only to suffer from whatever you don't.
sand storming through savage towns
revealing how dusty an empty house
can get. corridors comply to a heart
murmur creaking loathing yawns
towards a frivolous spender.
growing attached to whatever you have left
only to dismiss things to come.
(i haven't written poems in a while. so comment please. input is nice. :D)