Friday, October 20, 2006

Prophetic Words From 1987

I will scale the brooding face of this God
Like a creeping vine I shall live by inches
Praying that no shifting wind should inspire a sigh
Sending showers of boulders to wash away our familiarity

Hailstorms are his teardrops

The shale slides away
Downwards I plummit
Helplessly I plead with the summit

Nature is an Indian Giver echoes in my ears

But an edge evolves and I am cradled on a pouting lip
This child reborn gazes up
With the taste of blood on her tongue
She screams
I will

2 comments:

Blue Fairy said...

once a drama queen always a drama queen

Blue Fairy said...

well i don't give a fuck what y'all think