Strokes

This is a rash initiation rushed calibration brace yourself my child in the water things are waiting I'm not much for celebrating more for penetrating thought what a rush it is to see a man asleep beneath his cot join us at this table for a bounty of the flesh then let us scribe the tales of monsters, who to us are us to them go to sleep my sweet young sparrow as I pray for picturesque for the mind is but a canvas that we colour in with stress I have spent the darkness dreaming of the light that is to shine but in the daytime I stay longing for the rays within my mind in the end there is beginging and at the start we long to finish what a finicky transparent way to be, my prayer is finished