A cold hand reaches out
And from its knuckles bleed out a virus
And the trees still sway
The glass yet remains full, though she tried to leave
Beats resounding, rhythmic pounding
Was it man felt or some abstracted being?
Who are they to scrip out this meaning?
Dripping red, losing the fight
Take it over, find your in sight
Don’t leave me when you go
Because I trip over monsters I have found to be real
thought we were just playing pretend
Don’t hate me
Let me desert screaming he
This was not my fault
Well some
So feel it
I wouldn’t accept it
Choke on it
You won’t find it in you to deflect it
Because I know you from surface eyes and foreign resting hiding spaces
Feel it burn
-then quick resentment
Reforming accusations
I want still nothing to do with you
But see you burn
Leave it for tomorrow
Baby boy
I’d want to keep you
But my arms have been ripped at the seams
Sunday, August 30, 2009
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