Untitled

resolution fizzled
drizzle sprinkling onto the ground
clouds above merging into unknown forms
flying through the sky like magical doves
I peer up and I slip my glove on
standing still underneath the spot where the Sun
once shone.

the seasons are going
they are packing their belongings
suitcases all over the place
citizens are flocking away, off on holiday
the seasons are off on holiday too
where is the blue?
TURNED UPSIDE DOWN
the horrible carpet is up above
while the blue is inside
some of us; down here

trails and trails can lead to a point
but we will probably never get there
maelstrom of the disjointed
fingers are pointing at everyone
apart from the finger-pointing people
steeples with no steps
no way of reaching
the marble platform
the storm ravages
but excels with beauty at the same time
climates haywire
outside and inside our selves,
objects left objectively on the shelves