Unclassified

Dwindling in idle gratitude of my own silence, Interruption upon the observation of uncontrolled enviorment, Cascading over the designed sanctuary...

There is a sky scraper inside me…. forty stories high… filled with a thousand people who are all terrified.. That their desk job is eating their life...

Soft pastel oils streak themselves across a muted canvas, cold acrylics clash against stark monochrome on a thick cotton paper, senseless watercolours spar like water to a flame as they dance on bleeding stationary. Segragated into piles of water-logged stationary, there's a reason we don't mix.

I think I've had enough Trying to pick a drink that will sit On top of the rest of the night Something that will join in And not cause any trouble '...