it's grey, peppery coughs hacking through the fleshy night.
my hot, white light pierces my eyes and licks the pink wall.
i crave pills but vitamin c tablets will do.
sitting opposite blue-shirted confidence is degrading yet soothing.
i burn my tongue on chocolat chaud,
she steals my sugar cubes,
i nibble guiltily at frites they paid for.
it's black and white Paris and home is too bright for me.
my rainbow bra feels comfortable unlike the
cutting, coal-black one that pressed into my ribs.
i could laugh and dribble blood but i see no point.
my long-sleeved, skin-tight, cream shirt splattered with
jampink, fairyflosspink and curls of "boys"
scrawled confidently over milky material.
i find mascara flecks under my eyelashes
and they talk about suction contacts.
glassy eyes of dead animals stare back emptily
while i watch them with my vibrant blues
holding specks of blood, coffee, sugar it's Parisian
like the black and white postcards of the tour eiffel
standing in rain clouds and l'arc de triomphe a power block
from the view of a café behind tables, chairs and cups of café.
purple curtains caught behind white window handles just
outline my lips in chocolate mousse.
written: Monday 27th September 2004, 11:04pm.
Gender:
Points: 890
Reviews: 321