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Rated: 18+ | Poetry | Cultural | #420581
its a thin line between......for Vincent
sitting insane in mustard fields
oblivious
to summer's heat on uncapped head
aware
how its burning fingers deform
the shimmering gold

sitting insane while the wind sings
tracing
beautiful scars on shabby canvas-
brushstrokes of mutilation

yellow
for the lust of life
and stained power attending
for the cowardice of a brother
unable to love with an equal rage

the sun is orange

orange- the colour of madness.
© Copyright 2002 Raindog (UN: donbarn at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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