Wednesday, August 03, 2011

the Pleasures of being Short..

I tend to disappear when things
get rough. I am made out of water
but i am all dried up.

I am his lungs, blackened and
decayd. I am his heart, broken an
in the way.

Listen to me softly, listen to me
sweet. the suns are dancing, an
the trees are asleep.

My love is silent, frayed. But i
love her madly, at least today.

Wait, do you hear that tune. It must
be the day, the day of the moon.

Keep your eyes up,
for the ground
is nowhere
to be seen

And my stomach burns w/
a nauseating chemical called
(apparently) llove..

No comments: