Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god

Big Hole

The hurt scabs
In my veins, abapical
Eyes blinding mine
While the moon howls
At the hungry wolf.
Gone am I from
Reality, swiftly hanging
From dream to dream,
Translating ice
Into water, so pure and
Expecting death that
When our last breaths die,
We believe we have graduated
To a big hole
Six feet under.

3-18-10
 


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Big Hole

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