rainbows

By Matthew W.F. Senior

Where the rain hits the sun, fragments of colour, trapped and suspended - once apart - now merge and blend,

becoming translucent and unified.

 

Floating on air, like a bohemian waxwing on dextromethorphan, the rain bows down to me, and comfortingly whispers:

“I forgive you” - in it’s suffocating neglect, hollow and tired, her colours spill across the monolithic grey, clawing and wrapping around primal shapes to form a new, visceral beauty...

and that, is where we are.

This was written whilst visualising the EP "what dreams are made of".

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