black triangles

A poem by the unquestionably messed up world of tamara! Me no understand.

black triangles.

yestrday i made the bath blue,
how i did it no one knew,
the ink of boredem from my mind,
and it made me feel fine
why i did it i dont know,
wrapping round my leg like a bow,
this mulatation of my skin,
was like tatooing without the pin.
it felt like cutting which i have never done,
yet at the same time it was kinda fun.
i ate cakes and drunk cherry colas,
slowly destroying my all my molars,
i sat and watched a film about basketball.
where all the kids spoke like uneducated fools,
as i carried out my plan,
i thought with intrest a man called batman,
i wondered why he did his good deed,
and why i had felt the need,
to colour my legs black and blue,
so i watched him find the final clue
then scrubbed the crap off my thigh,
and wondered if i should lie,
about how i turned the bath blue.

by tamara