Awash with blues and greens, by day,
The morning searches hope, in vain
Abandoned feelings told to stray,
Cast onto a planet strange

A fire fears he’s forced to glow,
Yet I hear bows and arrows go
Like frightened echoes, void of vice
A life preserved on perfect ice,

I generate that summer breeze,
But automated autumn trees
Catch each and every single flow
Robots choked in heat below,

Drifting to the aftermath,
Luminance rush before the wrath,
Clockwork lives in pastels drown
To watch the tumbling circus, down

Observe the rasping fairground ride,
With people dancing, shattered life
Incendiary moments lost
For ever in the timeless glide

She knew the colour of my seams,
I bleed into those blues and greens,
The patchwork frayed, too late to reach
The break in walls I cannot breach...

But were my feelings wrong to stray
Onto that planet, cast away?
Like mountains, sad in upward gaze,
In Galileo’s garden, stay.
I dare to think tender machines
See parts of me so seldom seen:
Not blue, not green,
Nor dark or clean,
Not bound by colours that I dream,
But taken by the will to go
Above what lies in shapes below