When words are things I cannot feel or see,
And "I cannot read inside of me",
Or begin to describe the message my feelings send,
"I push my lungs up and pretend,
"I push my lungs up and pretend,
I pretend to be fire at them."
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Born (Low Hanging Fruit)
He was borne on a branch The low hanging fruit Of the curse The bushel that hung from nails Trellising tight stems to the frame Spurs offer...
-
I find the cool channels between buildings where the wind finds flow, This breeze block, asphalt, concrete complex, Where the radiance of ...
-
When honest becomes your brand, you'd better shut up shop The truth of you for sale, the under hand slides up top, Your candour on dema...
-
This master-work of yours, This magnum opus, This poiema, Is sat in his underpants In a neglected and untidy flat, Typing on a laptop he bou...
No comments:
Post a Comment