Last Chance #16

Black cat, they say no luck.
Headfirst, but falling on toes elegantly.
It’s not black, it’s not the first time I was told to turn away.
Who’s fault it is?
To filter a picture to twist a look from being seen?
I’ve been a fool.
On bum, dirty corner, laying bricks.
I started to cheer this pile of something.
An opportunity, not equal, not seducing, not appearing, not nothing. |
Motorbike dusts another few grams and I spit, I glue every insult to the memorial I boulder with my bare hands.
Gloves are hanging, waving in the wind, inviting birds to sit.
Sit and cheer a fort to be excused by nature to redeem resources.
These useless vines said more support, just a little rope or something to hang on hand you over a staircase heaven.
My mother whispered something about kings, feeling like a king.
I took the crow’s nest and have put it, have nothing to lose but wear a crown.
Playing with some unknown materials to form a sticky something.
Even dots of unfinished sentences, I just drop, every dot, every tear I don’t shy but mix the bitter beer and emotions steer and I climb this something and the princess on top, is dancing on my forté, she said I didn’t have to because it’s all about kærlighed but I totally forgot the first word I learned while transgressing the border of doubt and just melted in this recycled life mixed with given new chances to grow and color this ugly castle in roses red and yellow I don’t know why I didn’t all this for but my mother whispered my wife is singing and my daughter will be dancing.
Pièce de résistance, je vole. Desolé.
We made it, beach.
Hovedret.
A loose granular substance to…