Teal blue of my fairy strands
The murderous blues
The hauntings of sun dried cuts
Kill your belongings
It’s August
They said
But I’m still
Hooking my drunken soul
My red wined Coolings
Your own dealing
Homicides across globe
My spirits a childish grimace
Enjoy your youth
Sip be merry
A good natured wife
Milk of human kindness
Halted on
London bridges
Cycling through ages
Your white coloured tie
Pattern of your very being
Still my child’s sweater
Warm sipping
A home cooked meal
The city’s on fire
A Phoenix Soul
Soon a torpedo glory
Sky high nebulas
I screamed through
Be drunken white
Your own patterns
Still it’s August
They said
And My.





Photo Nick Victor

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