Crayola Blue

On a melodious Thursday night,

In a somnambulating metropolis,

Carving niches in bar stools,

Making our finest Bukowski impressions,

Swilling sagacity and perversion,

I couldn’t stop looking from the moment she walked in.

 

War is all around us.

We’re transient organisms

So why not address this magnetism.

I’d refill your whiskey, neat with a trace of immorality.

I dig imperfection, its become something of a fetish.

I want music where there is silence.

You are a harmony playing in my thoughts.

I don’t memorize poems, and I forget

The words to some of my favorite songs,

I just get so alone, sifting through the madness

Unsure of what I am supposed to do.

It’s autumnal equinox, and in my marrow

All I want to know is everything about Crayola Blue.

 

~ by gablesworth on September 23, 2012.