deepundergroundpoetry.com

bathroom.stall [graffiti]

.ifyoucanseethis.
[I'm not dreaming]


I don't dream in technicolor
because I like my rain to be the same grey
as what seeps from me when I bleed.
so at least a tiny. little. part of me.
will feel like it's- somehow
sent from above.

and I sleep in metaphor.
scribbling my messages on bathroom stalls
so that the walls will scream.
my meaning and I live in voids and venues
of pointless and poignant. freedom
is born of black on white.
as I speak graffiti-esque. like pen.stained
romances. on the back of.
old text books.

dirty.tile masterpieces
and felt tip to skin. I like to bleed ink
as black as my eyes in a silent movie.
mouthing words with fingers that speak louder.
than the shaking of my hands.
when the cigarettes calm everything but my nerves.

and I watch the rain coming down.
slight.splashes- painting the cement in ways
I could only dream. I spell out oblivion with candy.
apple greys and neon whites.
spilling lies like dried out markers
touching the panels of some forgotten building.
and I scream in broken hues.
as if my eyes were closed.


I live in fading romance.
where broken hearts look like split rocks.
and I'm left wondering what happened.
to my orange sunsets.

sometimes.
dreams. aren't all they're
cracked up to be.
Written by Six-Out (Jon Rodgers)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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