Insipid mama

emotional void
bleeding tar pits of sweat
no scent to cover the cultural seeping
angry at the are of the you are
pirates of sailed regression
and I say this Michael
I don't a;;ow myself to be happy or sad
good nor bad
i tread on steady waters
non appreciation of genius
the world is not constructed of scaffolds of colours
its an architecture of non desript sketches
cathedrals of couture don't exist to me
play guitars and conscript words
for a war of imagination
I will not appreciate, can not gravitate
I hate to tell you this son
but i'm the black and white mum.