Word Painting

I forged quiet charms as I ran out of praise to give to your worldly face that glinted in the moonlight. In the morning the sun rose, exposing the salty stained windows, that cast bleaching methods of stillness across your littered floor. I abandoned my love for your joyous terrors as I sank deep into sleep as if at a mental hospital. Now a cloudy white noise echoes around the kitchen below as the speakers screamed ‘he tore me apart because I really loved him’. A bird sat, stiff on the neighbours fence as I asked about the day ahead and you woke up to a women you were unsure you went to bed with. Will your mouth read this truth that flutters out over and over onto the battered leaves next to the grey, stretching, hopeful road? My flesh hangs like warm wax from my bones as if I am unfinished in this morning light that pours in quite unwanted. I tell her to take the hat back, it will not be happening and she smiles, content, you baffled that I ever asked. Laughing monks come to me in my sleep, they ring and call through the iron door that encloses me. I’m quite sure that if we drank whiskey and played cards for a while this listless life would seem more as a phantom stage for the times ahead, but all the same you wish to sip the brown liquid and dangle the white stick from your mouth. I sang the blues as I drifted off. I sang the blues as I drifted off. I sang the blues as I drifted off.