Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god
Eleemosynary
In your hands,
You hold it.
It's a section of me
That I've given to you,
Free of charge.
A notion is wrapped
Around your thick fingers.
My affection has
Left an impression.
On your fingertips is
A faint hint of
My essence,
Which never fades.
When your prints are left
On the handrail,
I will be able to find
A smear of my entity.
You've stained my irises
With your zeal.
In respite,
My stomach lurches
With sudden pain.
I'd have given more to you,
But I say that to
Everyone.
April 27, 2005
Suge
You hold it.
It's a section of me
That I've given to you,
Free of charge.
A notion is wrapped
Around your thick fingers.
My affection has
Left an impression.
On your fingertips is
A faint hint of
My essence,
Which never fades.
When your prints are left
On the handrail,
I will be able to find
A smear of my entity.
You've stained my irises
With your zeal.
In respite,
My stomach lurches
With sudden pain.
I'd have given more to you,
But I say that to
Everyone.
April 27, 2005
Suge
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Eleemosynary
Eleemosynary
