Under a vomit of vermilion, vechicles
in suits cramp up on the freeway and the
over dominating red and green lights
emit a feeling of blue French horns drowning in caffeine.

She tries to read, but the swamp of sweat
permeates her heart: urban rain forest trees
being too severe. Husband, kids, parents - life
in general wears her systematically down.

(sometime in the past during those bright sand castle days, where
ideals and ideas got dulled like the peeling paint off a plaster wall)

thick amoebas of monoxide help her to sink it
all in, while also enfolding her in a dream into the
next intimate sky,
where the white becomes colorless and free.

Log in or register to write something here or to contact authors.