My head is full of numbers, 
my heart is full of dread 
if I go from black to blue 
all the rhymes 
will come out new. 
Red bleeds to yellow 
and all the numbers are blue
the three comes in threes and
makes the nine incomplete and 
the moon tells the secrets 
I'm not meant to keep 
it's a message of the future 
and the past complete. 

A half yellow star sharp 
pierces my art.
The ...

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Lost in the summer haze 
still filtering out those greys,
still absent in waste, 
vacant in change 
rearranging my stain 
an inherent pain 
displaced 
the colour 
drips, 
drips, 
drips. 
My bones leak into my soul, 
the mud absorbs everything 
but the flow 
and the black fog 
still follows me home.

The desert can be bleak 
especially when the colour
constantly leaks
and the sa...

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