Grass - Collaboration With Space Cadet

Ambiguous beds, my drowsy youth, like warm, Bermuda fairways and greens. My back on this bed, thoughts roam, hands gesture and write words in the air — A window to watch clouds in the day, moonlight on the grass, stars on clear night. Particles of sun on moonlit nights, synesthesia colours each sentence. I bite my nails. Helps caress, soothe my psychosis, paranoid of whether I can replace myself again. This poison invades my speech and thought — I push it away with poetry. After repair, we'll tear down these curtains of oblivion, clean the bedskirt, change our address, move this cedar book case to an attic of a different Victorian house. This book goes with me, to a freshly mowed lawn, to read on my back, in the moonlight, in fragrance of grass. *** © 2017 February 20 | Darren | Wesley