Wasted Paint blob

moonlit hailstones 
mirrors in the night

or themselves ?

i pull the curtains 
to the dancing ghost
of eternity 
who will leave no footprints 
when the music stops 
leaving me looking
in the broken mirrors
resting peace’s
for Schroedinger’s chair

medicinal shrooms grow 
deep within rain clouds 
pen missiles
grey paper bags
like lighting pierces
black and white
puff clown smurfs 
that explode 
like fireworks 
across SILENCE

if i could fly 
would that be cancerous

or a abnormality ?

to smile for a mile
i’d turn upside down 
to keep all the color in
i’ll get fat 
as a paint ball 
in flight anxiety meals 
water and custard 
pastel bile 
till my destructive
brush flicked blobs
meets the grey concrete 
that absorbs me 
into its 
munching canvas

© bg 2012

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