I throw words at the world
paint balls for random spatter
random sweeps of colour
drowning out the darker moments
on the journey through the night
softly swirling dreams across the sky
inviting whispers into sleeping ears
that sing of siren pleasures
to be found in the damp thuds
paint percussion in the barrel
on the shoulder, blooms of colour
running down the plastic,
all the fabric of our lives.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
yep. i like this: ] suzette x