somber solitude, a sequel to the surreal

on rainy days i can paint pictures on the foggy windows;

cats with arched backs, men with dewy eyes.

i can create a world where they know me,

where i can live and breathe without hiding in lies.

on sunny days everyone calls me names,

medicated titles and medication prone.

their words like hands tight on my throat

in school, at work, at home.

i cannot get release.

he never wanted to give me love, but only touch and kiss and receive.

i spiral down in my blasted plane

spraying smoke and gas we shouldnʼt breathe.

but on foggy days i can remember his face:

he left here a hole, a blunt and a rose.

half broken and still bleeding i carry myself silently;

singing and sobbing dancing on tip toes.