Paint

Awake at night in the Midst of urban insanity I sit in my hovel Crouched against cracked drywall and peeling paint. I hear The sounds Of pandemonium Lurid screeches of betrayal and the whimpers of cursed bastard urchins. Scribbling, like an ember flaking softly, but hotly, on the walls, in coal, in chalk, in paint. One morning I awoke to discover The wild tales of twilight madness Here I am At this mom n' pop hardware store, standing in line, cold sweat piercing my brow. A palmy blue mix in hand, To conceal. Just as hideous ugliness Is dipped in sunlight and forgotten, so shall I paint my walls.