(8) The Water Tower:
Red house red, is what the fool said, yet the fool is you, if red house blue, the water tower is distant, but visible.
The tree lines blur, while he thinks of her, and one chops the fir. The water tower has been through sun and shower, always long away, nearly to May, faded, but the ground is yet shaded.
The man moves, but remains, the leaves brown, yet the needles ever green, so seldom seen.
Cyclone of trash, filling the pig's stash, willing one brash, so tell me, what color be the house? Are you man or mouse?
The house is cerulean, "but the house is blood red" one stands and fled. I see the water tower afar, the land's scar.
What one will have felt, the whip of a leather belt, from the sound of silence, speak the loudest repents.
The water tower distant, it is ever insistent, telling stories of running beyond.
YOU ARE READING
Cervical Cogitationum
PoetryTranslates to "Pillow of Thoughts" in Latin. An autobiographical poetry conceptual album. Tells the story of my past, and reasonings for introversion. I seek nothing but to tell a story, and to get what has gone untold off of my chest. The pillow of...
