My entrails bathed in the thorn capped moon high over my mind last night.
And I washed my hands in the golden glue of spring's temptations this morning.
I will melt under thunder and lightning to which god's grand hammer swings tonight.
And I will grow from my lilly white carcass —reaching for happiness in the sorrows of tomorrow.
For what the future's rusty blades hold for me I do not know, but I will live alone... and will I die that same way?
No comments:
Post a Comment