BG the artist the artist gazes with other eyes inspired by fireflies & magical dust places trust upon the canvas a prismed palate in hand painting in glittering gold unaware and seemingly uncaring of what anyone might think oils blend into a mélange
BG it it was all the shit heaped up in a pile that didn’t need to be surveyed by me or you it was stuff left over from bad places broken relations shattered dreams too it was a jumble
BG scars fade scars fade they were merely a graze not a wound no pain no anguish no permanent damage the bandage removed made me wince for only a nano revealing a healing the music turned from gloomy gray to something more suitable to lighten the
BG today’s discourse lessons unlearned taking old and making it new again rekindling a fire sipping on warm cider watching the trees become bare as winter approaches leaves drop 1 by 1 yet the limbs don’t shiver from the cold the squirrels don’t
BG the 1……. the only i will ask no questions that don’t apply i will raise my eyebrow when questions arise i will answer
BG when does it end nobody’s wrong nobody’s right it’s an internal fight trying to burst out of the bubble trying to stay out of trouble head throbbing heart sobbing when does it end …………………..right now set your stake claim the day sing your song dance