Burns is bridging

And bitches are yearning.
I’m not going but I’ll be there
Picking lies out of your hair.
I feel like rhyming and making up words
I want to go where spoken flowers grow.
Between grains of dust beneath my floorboards
With all I should care for
Lies heavy reality evermore
I’m light as paper
Paper planes with carton panes.
It’s all there on the thin sheets
Instant escape from banality rape
To word worlds.
Where wars are lost wars cause frost
Pieces for peace and beloved written torsos.
I wrote therefore I was
I read therefore I still were
I grab my pen to be
Paper calling for me.
I paint in letters
Letters of pain
Convoluted and sent away
With everything written I can’t deal with
Burned bible
Yearning bridges.