Violetred
May 2nd, 2012
For a moment forget the place, home and death. Forgive the foreigner, his bitch and her brute. Let the bridge, the knife and the flag go.
Come the girl lying under sunlit trees, on the high grass. Eyes closed. Come my hand dreaming across her skin worlds it could give birth to. Some calm and peaceful, others violent and painful, some boring and still. Her laying there, curling into the corner of cold cosmos, hidden by the sky blue. Me unpolitely trying to kiss her out of the slumber. She saying no at a distance of infinite breath. She moving backwards as we dance in the summer haze, me wanting to guess her body vectors when ignited by desire.
The violet of her satisfaction, the red of my desperation, coloured in black silver of extinct stars.
Bet against the truth the illusion of a dreaming river, slowly inhaling the smokes that leave our flesh awake.
For a moment, imagine the white of a rose in a winter night.
Then forget what you had to forgive.
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