FADED PICTURES

Like a looming picture

Veiling the wall

I prepare my senses to be attacked.

I put my mud of artifice

And switch moods of respite.



I would creep around like a hound

Sniffing insecurities- comfortably, loud.

Then you walk in from somewhere

With yours motley brigade

And spill your dreams.

I try relaying mine, conveying mine.



And that’s just when I die.