Whiplash

The way I think in black ink on a red card and in my yard or what they call the cosy crib I use a gold nib to write my name.
Fame comes at a price, nothing is all sugar, some things are not so nice like the constant tone of the telephone and the curtains closed and the way we pose for the camera.
The way I think in black ink’s not so very hard,
use a red card and they
don’t see the blood.

© 2015, John Smallshaw.