Static

Lies in the shade,
crimson fingertips, tainted in the dry ink
on the couch at midnight,
staring at the empty screen,
remember that afternoon

Look round' the ol' house
crumbled about you
like a house of cards

Luscious smiles pasted on the desert madras,
on layered hills
like paint pots overturned

Those deceitful eyes
shining on the oasis green
just reflections in the dark

And TV goes static

frozen in the moment
crystalline
like a spider in the amber.