Fairytales and Nightmares

Clean-cut pictures

On the cutting floor

A blissful memory

Picture imperfect

Although the sun seemed to shine

In sepia tones

Down upon no. 20,

Memory Lane

Childhood of Insanity.


That’s not even an address,

You said.

But it is

And that’s my home

Or at least it was

Until I grew old

Moved away

Had a house of my own

And learned to love

And to look back

And never forgive

Those sepia tones

Stinging my eyes

Blinding my vision

Of the dark, naked trees

Reaching to the sky.


Now my world is technicolour

A dream-coat

Wrapping the sepia in cotton,

Clouding my mind.


Still I can’t see the trees

Unless powdery clad

In the crystal-meth-built Amphitheatre

Where my life’s a sketch

And the actors are missing some lines.


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