Moody
Just lying on my back
And watching thoughts stumble across my mind
I seem to have fallen into a habit of brooding
It starts with one annoying thing…that makes me see red
And I stifle it under the thin plastic blue tarpaulin that keeps out the storm
Disturbingly, it causes a bruise that turns purplish
Bottle-green dots of melancholy waft over and settle down
And stain my thoughts dull, dirty brown
Odd flecks of yellow hysteria sparkle here and there
Then they deepen to orange philosophizing
A lavender musical wave washes over the aridness
And leaves a grey granite shadowed black marble behind
Moods aren’t voluntary
I am just the mute spectator as the colours swirl around
And bind me in their compulsive rhythm
