Underground_Network
July 26th, 2009, 06:19 AM
A man in a blue tuxedo
Walks down the aisle
With his eyes closed.
His tie is red.
His eyes, if opened
Would shine a
Monotonous blue.
He is a man of two simple colors:
Red and blue.
He is a man who knows not the significance
Of his colorful nature.
Red, the color of his carpet
After his last encounter
With his girlfriend's 'other' boyfriend.
Blue, the color of the ocean
That swept the red's source away,
And forever made innocent
One who was guilty.
And now that man in the blue tuxedo,
He walks down the aisle
With his eyes closed,
And his mouth wide open.
His tongue is red.
His eyelids are pale.
His eyelashes, black.
His heart...
Is black as well.
But still he walks down the aisle,
Hands clasped,
Legs moving in an abnormal gait,
A perambulation different than
What would be expected
From a man with this colored a past.
He reaches the front of the aisle,
Opens his eyes, which shine
A monotonous blue,
And he puts his right hand on a dusty brown pedestal
In front of him.
He whispers something inaudible,
And incomprehensible to himself,
Then he turns around,
And with a small serrated blade,
Turns the monotonous blue
To a sickening red.
Walks down the aisle
With his eyes closed.
His tie is red.
His eyes, if opened
Would shine a
Monotonous blue.
He is a man of two simple colors:
Red and blue.
He is a man who knows not the significance
Of his colorful nature.
Red, the color of his carpet
After his last encounter
With his girlfriend's 'other' boyfriend.
Blue, the color of the ocean
That swept the red's source away,
And forever made innocent
One who was guilty.
And now that man in the blue tuxedo,
He walks down the aisle
With his eyes closed,
And his mouth wide open.
His tongue is red.
His eyelids are pale.
His eyelashes, black.
His heart...
Is black as well.
But still he walks down the aisle,
Hands clasped,
Legs moving in an abnormal gait,
A perambulation different than
What would be expected
From a man with this colored a past.
He reaches the front of the aisle,
Opens his eyes, which shine
A monotonous blue,
And he puts his right hand on a dusty brown pedestal
In front of him.
He whispers something inaudible,
And incomprehensible to himself,
Then he turns around,
And with a small serrated blade,
Turns the monotonous blue
To a sickening red.