Burnt Black Petals

Look!
Oh, what a sight.
SomeThing that you are forced to see,
Amidst the light of this place.
I can feel the importence;

the warmth of a bony hand can be pale or pure the scent of cold air clinging on a sheet can be airy or dark the sight of eyelashes slightly obscuring your vision can be a headache or a lovely haze Static sounds and straining skin are here to stay unt

A single thing, pure, unique

A double set, twins of eachother, spares

Juggle them, place them, extras

Place in the corners, plenty, fun to fiddle

One to many, break a few, put them in a box

When you see something nasty
All you need to do is say no to it,
And then the nasty will go away.
When you see something angry
All you need to do is erase it,

The smell is light and yet it makes you dizzy with the chemical smell.
The taste is bitter and it becomes limp in your mouth.
The sight is of a thin thing, pale or colored it does not matter.

Listen! Listen!
If you listen you just might hear me
If you hear you can find me
You can find me and then
Then you can.

Listen! Listen!
If you listen you can know this
If you know you may take this