Black and White

You paint the stories black and white in pixels; 
you write pictures of ivory trails and elephant tails. 
This house that you've invented holds your anarchic views 
and a life you falsify in vain. This house has black curtains over 
brickwork to disguise the lack of windows, but we can see through 
the façade - a hurricane will leave you dry, that's not the point of living. 
You paint the stories; you paint them black and white but will anyone 
believe it? You write pictures but we never forget. 
 
A wooden pier; the semen stains on the stair – a relationship for you 
to dip your feet in, a life you could destroy. A serenade; the torture in 
a train of blue; but it didn't survive and I'm feeling free. But I'm oblivious 
to love and you're dropping children like a rabbit – it’s strange, I can't 
remember this novel forming from the pale lips guarding your soul. The artwork 
of our lives will not coalesce, I'll follow the concrete trails and asphalt lines but 
the child inside will not forgive. The pictures you write form hollow stories; 
this canvas will never be black and white again.