i have a case of sunset dreams, you see
i look around wishing for colours to swirl around my tongue,
to weave through my fingers
with a kiss.
no, doctor,
you do not understand!
i am not depressed
i do not need help.
your false prescriptions churn my stomach
into mince.
you gave me palpitations mixed with a pinch of heartburn
so no,
doctor.
you are synthetic LED colours
i do not need you,
stop pouring thoughts in me,
i do not need to
"smile",
i just have a case of sunset dreams.
YOU ARE READING
young.
Poetryaren't we the lucky ones? we get to feel dead when we're supposed to be living. a collection of scrap paper rambles when i was younger.
