death was born in man...
her memory, slit vertically....both wrists, tear the end of skin... cursing a threshold.....
imagine irony of situation and speak through funeral rites, read deep through the ground focused heads...daily, dramatic and drawing of sword from a captive volume's chest..
bleeding into not...a phrase so sudden it drapes with death....curtains will lay....blood spills our stage.....
how far, above, i wrapped this tree, waiting for leaves written with answers to fall
just one call.....
as strong winds shake and twist, not a word escapes......the buried treasure deep in root is nothing but my own mystery......
people will break each other....spill spend and check each other....it will sting off and clip.....flail aside from us all..a draft......think of me......
imagine irony of situation and speak through funeral rites, read deep through the ground focused heads...daily, dramatic and drawing of sword from a captive volume's chest..
bleeding into not...a phrase so sudden it drapes with death....curtains will lay....blood spills our stage.....
how far, above, i wrapped this tree, waiting for leaves written with answers to fall
just one call.....
as strong winds shake and twist, not a word escapes......the buried treasure deep in root is nothing but my own mystery......
people will break each other....spill spend and check each other....it will sting off and clip.....flail aside from us all..a draft......think of me......
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