here..
put this on your tongue..
this is the body
lest ye not forsaketh me..
this will melt..
and you will taste
my essence..
and forget all
your realities
and phoney selfinflicted
abnormalities..
don't fear me..
although some have
told you to revere me..
I'm just a man
like you..
always chasing after
vapours..always reading
the sunday papers..
and dreaming of lustful
capers..forever lost
in a dream..nevermore
to find myself back..
to where it all began..
I can't feel the inside..
anymore..like a porceilean doll..
only made out of paper..
the feelings are there..
the emotions are real..
but you can't hear me now..
with dead doll eyes..
and satin taffeta lies..
only wishing..the end
would come true
and so your life
is the sum of your parts..
spent off the cuff..
with bitter remarks..
By Rick Weber
January 23, 2012
copywritten
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
