Hothouse 



I run down like spilled paint

A sadness encompassed with a dark past

A fragile present gripping an ancient spyglass

Bones through skin hunt and pretend to predict

A future floating stagnant in a forgotten wasteland

 

I heard you tell me it would all pass

A shudder through my tired frame then back

A pallid skinned circus haunt on a round track

Voice empty of reason and scratched

A desert hothouse with the promise blotted out

 

Yet still your words ricochet around my dilapidated heart

An ever present reminder, honor unintended from the start

The blue skies now a cotton lining all white

I close my eyes to yesterday, torching it from memory

My view lacks the distance to hope for more than this night

 

You come around in love with the scandal

And run your hands over its coarse edged lead lines

Slow poison in the blood, something I never understood

Can’t call it love or benevolence, oh no not this

Take it all away and leave me with the emptiness

*By two minds: Johnny and SG 



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