|
|||||
|
|
|||||
| PLACES TO GO: |
After the thought which races up my spine ceases that which was flashed before my eyes memories welling up and hopes crawling towards the light I wish for that outside of my grasp beyond the night, the day, and the mind no one can buy me the thing I crave the warmth and sweetness upon the tip of my tongue that I am unable to taste yet have such a deep wanting to consume and find pleasure in -- and make happy the desire is placed within this corporeal being for a purpose yet it nearly kills me I search all over, yet find little but black soil sandy and rocky and no water to grow the slightest flower, and yet, I know the field is out there, somewhere in the midst between twilight and sun I search the horizon for the face I know lingers in the darkness -- where it might be beyond me. I wait...and wither...and hope for the life. Before death. |
||||