A negative of Dorian Gray

[Keith]

Edit 1
I fall through, embossed by sleeves,
captured thoughts that never age,
these moments are mine to travel,

Suggestive on your zipper sticky fingers fish for babies,
billion dollar bites the bate,
nevermind the neon typeface.

Prism out my bright new colours, a place were I begin,
climb the causeway of the holy,
kiss the mouth of the crimson king.

Hindenburg is helpless smoke cigars inside the Graf,
muscle bound beside the rider,
burning hell from gravestone blast.

London’s on the stage calling all guitars to smash,
fly with me to Battersea, on pigs across its stacks,
picked up Ziggy from the club, snorting stardust.

I have run inside these vivid scenes
it seems I do not age,
yet every image I see reflect,
subjects me to myself with lines
I learn and then forget.
My soul was sold for pocket money,
my face, long since replaced.


Original
I move through, embossed by sleeves,
captured thoughts that will never age,
these moments are mine to travel,

Tugging your zipper with sticky fingers,
fishing for babies on dollar bills,
refracting new colours out of the prism,
scattered bollocks in the neon typeface,
squashing children on the giants causeway,
at Hindenburg, fanning the flames,
pillion passenger straight out of hell,
split in the lip of a war torn child,
in the shadows of a calling stage,
flying pink over Battersea sky’s,
Inside the pocket of the faded boss,
sat in a car waiting for Stardust.

I can run inside these vivid scenes
it seems I do not age,
yet every image I see reflect,
subjects me to myself with lines
I learn and then forget.
My soul was sold for pocket money,
my face, long since replaced.