The Illegality of Primitive Love

Hanging like a drunken chandelier from a theatre ceiling
Summer slides its hands between your thighs like a sharp omelette.

There’s a camels hump in a jam jar that will not talk to me about anything.
The look of surprise on the face of the arching black cat as it was hung for crimes it did not commit.

Thanks to the discovery of a grain of builders grit in a dark hollow of an inner amplifier Darwin has me put to death.
I follow an attractive idea out through my navel down a long road into a promise where the future conceals a new body.

Upon the sound of human voices I change colour and merge into my surroundings.
A half eaten celery plant spreads its wings and calls out an alarm that bounces heavily around the dungeon

As long as the drums keep playing, I won’t get you out of my mind.

Author: blackbird212012

I am interested in multimedia work: songwriting, art, and creative writing. I have been involved also in theatre and music performances.

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