Poem of the Day — Crossed with wires

Crossed with wires

Teething rubber bouncing beloved

Sweating profusely at the sign of trouble

Double dosing of difficult decisions

Just a mark of the time; a time that lasts forever

Or never a breathing space for tell tale stories

Ignoring the base line function

The fluid reaction to trembling skin

Within a made up steel drum rattle

A battle to listen

To a tune that is hidden; that is painted; a scene

Green and blue stretched out as far as the distant horizon

Pickled like juice squeezed from a fruit

Astute assumption that a pink dream slides on plastic

Sick of the same small excuse

A barber shop incision

That cuts through the fashion

To reveal a sore point is rich to say the least

The beast within has arisen

Given the penetrating heat

Discreet but exhibiting hidden passion

His face is ashen as he cries out your name

Fair game

I am sure I would be just the same.
Copyright Patrick Turner-Lee 9th November 2015

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