colours blue sky fresh white clouds red tree leaves dark thick roots yellow green grass something like camden lock something like this place i imagined when i read mick foleys autobiography- a dusty high grass american mid-west country we're somewhere there you're red coat black hair walking like we used to but anger resides within you words are said but i forget because i was sleeping i perch up on a railing i feel arms round my neck come lean in grab tight hold black leggings you're,i'm, wait. - .don't wake.
