Graduation Gift

Lily’s dancing across the breeze.
The violent breeze.
Her pedals rip off and are shredded into a hundred ragged pieces.
All the colours of the rainbow.

The war Horse thunders on, his mouth is foaming his flaks bleed from the sharp loving spurs of his master.
On and on and on and on.
Pounding over the red ground, across the red river.
Through the violent breeze.

Racing through the streets, shift to a high gear.
Go faster, faster.
Into the violent Breeze.
Don’t crash. Aim for the field.

Type while you block them out.
A whole new breeze.
An old breeze.
A knowing breeze.

Slap the red across the canvas, creating a hundred terrible lilies.
Each is ripping.
Each is dying
Wipe the red across your face. A supplement for blue.

Slip into the blankets, they’ve been pre-warmed.
Leave your body there, curled and miserable.
Find the walls you have to climb. The walls made from Silver.
Be sheltered from the violent breeze.

Stop talking, just stop talking.
Your voice is grating on my ears.
They don’t bleed, but sometimes I wonder.
Stop moaning, I can’t deal with it anymore.

Throw the cap high into the air.
Watch it soar higher and higher.
I hope it catches the breeze so I never have to see it again.
Wish to get out. Don’t come back.