Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god

A twitchy nerve above my left eye

The abysmal dark crashes
Into feeble dreams as
Heartache smashes
All the sound themes.

The forest of thought,
A dirty prey, littered
With light and distraught.
Passion, now it frays.

I walk it straight and narrow,
Cut the cords and
Split the arrows,
Hiding right beside the lord.

The funeral beside the trees,
Gravel paths, pay the
Man his idle fees.
Our faces turn to grey.

8-24-10
 


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A twitchy nerve above my left eye

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