Just South Of The Yellow Brick Road

Just south of the yellow brick road,
Where you’re lulled to sleep in a pale river, and whisked awake by saltwater and screams.
Paper daisies lose their petals, with blooms where
He loves me not.
Just south of the yellow brick road.
Where when you move according to your own rhythm,
You’re off beat.
Newspaper skies rain down blue black ink,
Like mascara down fever flushed cheeks.
Just south of the yellow brick road,
Where you forget all the dance steps with a sweet surrender.
Contrasting harmonies drip from your mind, off your tongue, out of tune and fragile.
Just south of the yellow brick road,
Where lips are glossed with desperation and words drip with regret.
Kisses taste like false hope, linger without cause, but leave..

Just like everything else.

by Jordan Griffiths

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