Running towards a rainbow with a headache
The tick-tock with a back beat slogs its cogs
in time and tune with the moments I’ve displaced
in harbouring these moods, where every thought
is an edge, or a primitive wall.
But I’m content to change. The altering eye
sets sail in the wind and seeks the rain.
The vessel is drunk, the sun awry.
Now do your worst, I’m coloured-in pain.
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