Lee Steel

Ta choix de me gommer
De ton histore écrite
Par les phobias, les obsessions et le mécontentement
...

You can see
You’re big to me
...

A man stands apart
He leads his own life
For himself and for the father above
Been his own person since he was young
...

Pain is blood red.
It smells like a fridge of sad roses.
It tastes like thorns.
It sounds like fingernails running down a chalkboard.
...

Joy is bright blue, a kind of turquoise.
She smellt like a million lily bouquets.
Tasted of frosted cinnamon rolls.
To be with her was the A string on a fine violin.
...

He is every color but is not a rainbow.
It smells like fresh rain on the gray pavement.
It tastes like cinnamon apple pie with sugar on top.
It sounds like a children's choir in a seashell.
...