Sunday, July 22, 2012

Two of Kind

we're like each others infatuation,
grounded by reason.

A decade
over the influence,
swaying all degrees of emotion
within a commercial-breaks-time.

Ground me,
flying cold in 120 degree weather,
feed me love, then guilt,
in admirable ways.

We talk in art
it's our own slang,
an understanding
with only pencils, brushes, and melodies.

(They never could).

Now try and replicate
through color who we are,

With precision
perfectly flawed,

We are one.