Thursday, May 10, 2012

The Imp And The Stop

I inhale air and stop to inhale air
The weight of weight is here until it's not
The Loss of loss is no real loss at all
I can't or won't refuse to view the wall

The foreboding shadow crawls now, to dawn
I turn again to turn once more to time
My view a fragile one to say no more
My room a row of windows with no door

A tidal pull to take my skin and go
Blood and tissue twist to form the crown
Seven times I wake to go to sleep dreams
Seven times I sleep to wake to day screams

to think to skip
to stay to know
hot burns the sun
there goes the snow

I carve your name into the moon
I drown to know the brides of june.

No comments:

Post a Comment