Saturday, April 17, 2010

Splashes Of Cello



in the walls
of the mazes
of your mind
colours blind me

purple splashes
hummed by the cello
are sliced
by a single
lightening-streak
issued from a violin

red is the shade
of your blood
that you
wish
you could have spilt

and black is nothing
just like we all
will be
one day

carried away
by the muddy smell
of pigeon feathers
sniffed
a decade ago

i know the words for the shade that you see

as a host of evil butterflies
are dispersed
by the holy light

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