Читать книгу When We're Awake At Night - Levi Laws - Страница 18

Purple ambiance stains my eyes.

Tracks of serotonin feel my ears, but evade my soul.

Yearning for release of what's inside.

Listening to The Devils call.

She's sharp; her persuasion is uncanny.

Avoiding her is unproductive.

The sensation of her in my fingers is necessary.

Twirling her metal in my fingers has become seductive.

We begin our delicate dance.

She leads me as she glides across her stage

Painting it immaculately with each collapse.

An art piece with the canvas perceived as deranged.

Slipping through my fingers, she falls to the floor.

Temporary thrilling escape from the numb.

The dance is over and I can't ignore,

the canvas is an over-painted one.