Crumbling cobblestone and decaying benches stacked in a scene of dismay
Grumbling on about ugly yellow street signs and a missing knob doorway.
The lights are out and time sneaks by, mind a whirlwind of doom.
Sleep escapes constant worriers and their venomous world of gloom.
And the tea kettle scretches harmoniously to its own little wicked tune
While children run rampant and silence is happiness under the pale nude moon.
Lit up by that smile that laugh and a spark
From a close comfort hug all alone in the dark.
Crooked pictures lined down a hall of deep red
Tormented ballerinas with much skin to shed.
Walking wayward down a strange pitch black path and even better then this
Taking note of the cracks and imperfections and craving lips of a kiss.
The void inside us all
the part that makes us tumble and fall.
And here I am in your chaos,
Always wanting more
beautifully written
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