wait for the desert to admit. its damp sand leads us nowhere. spoil those gods with inferences to failing children. i play the devil. as any actor would. close enough to the skin to be certain of the temptation.
all i see is the Forest. paths missing us. witches heads in the oven. and the freedom that accompanies such arrogance.
a bit of poison. to cure me. a bit of poison. to slowly make me immune. the hours like broken glass. i walk over them. forgetting the blood in my journey. forgetting everything. that still asks where i am.
Sunday
10/10/2010 01:24:00 AM
Post a Comment