Wednesday, 28 October 2015
traces of water on my window pane.
i drift away with sleep.
in my mind a tattoo forms on an angels skin
as the sky folds into another day.
lights stick my eyes like needles,
like spiteful pine needles.
between the cold comfort of transparent glass
i slide down as silk only to find a dream forms of new york skys.
colour floods my mind with rainbows
china white or Asian brown?