Damnation Sad

on Dusty Webs

Bad Trades digital artpiece by author

There are stains upon the window, right beneath the spider’s cotton
Something sticky’s on the table, where ghosts had cereal and thought their morns
There’s a chill along my armpits, swearing all have walked this road before
A lamp stations skinny, in the corner losing weight
A picture of monkey on the walls are condescending
The still of a cowboy, salutes no girl, and winks his tear
A bar stool with the loose nails, and no…

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If you paint for me even one thing which is true, perhaps I’ll be tempted to consider two. I tell tales poetically, someone else needs to set them to music.

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If you paint for me even one thing which is true, perhaps I’ll be tempted to consider two. I tell tales poetically, someone else needs to set them to music.

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