a king of all kinds

a crown of black skies hides behind a hairline

the thrills of the thunder encased by a flick

or a flinch of a lash trimmed lid

no better than us with those words you spin

blind in the day to a brighter night and a pitiful

excuse for tomorrow.

you see what you want but the king sees it all

and what you call blood runs colourless

and clear as your skin sheds pages like a scaly

infection

infectious

now i'm just rambling.

oh well, worth a try.