the Duet

Here's something that 'was' - the piece of me I'm done with anyway. Part of 'the Patricide' (draft One) and probably better than what I subsequently came up with, but incoherent. And I guessed it's better to make sense than to try desperately to not.

the sky is white,

its spaces blue,

its diamonds bleak

and purple too

with leaves in grey

when leaving brown,

with orange lights

to smile a frown

and with you around

your jaded gold,

what can I say?

it’s a racial world.

now the sky is red

and yellow too,

with all the shit

that’s falling through

and I do my best

to keep it clean,

and not wait for yellow

to turn to green

yet I find my name

stuck in the flow,

what can I say?

it’s a preposterous world…

the sky is crying

the sky is crying

the sky is crying

go make it stop

no bucket enough

to hold the drops

but one like you,

you’d soak it up;

like shit in water,

a face in the mud

you pulled my chains,

you cleared my line;

but… (emotionally) I’m not gay

Rozario: Neither am I.

the scene ends with both of them (there's two people, unless you haven't figured that already) looking into each other's eyes, pretty much at kissing distance. And both are men, yes. Probably think Marlon Brando with Dustin Hoffman (or someone equally tiny, and as intense) except that he'd play guitar - enough to walk on Clapton, King and Stevie Ray.

I know. I'm from Mars, or a parallel equivalent.