sure i'll have another one, its early.

Im victim to my own imagination and this hollow
heart’s resigned beating echoes on saturated sheets.
Canary yellow dances in tangles with sky blue cotton
as these clouds slowly dissipate in order for a return to stable ground.
But this ground’s been dry too long. Lonely tins of vibrant colours
await use in the dusty forgotten cupboard. So my umbrella holds
off contact from welcomed but reclusive water, well its true the
weather man’s a liar. Everything’s clear from where I’m sitting
This hot tasting atmosphere is the alarm clock on my biological clock.
I didn’t realise I’d set snooze for months. This escape has got me
gasping for breath but supplies of oxygen only seem to rise as I
repeat A-B for the second time. Let me out of this repetitive nature, wait.
I ate the key to that too.