it’s always raining in this dark alley of me
lightdrops heavenwards starseeds
the poem is a strange deranged idea
like a riddle or a fire or a storm
an ancient ? never to be answered
I am not here to decipher it
nor am I the holder of any keys
for I runincircles writeincircles flyincircles
mouth wideopen to the nightsky
chewing the moon whole in
gentlemadlittle bites of lust
No comments:
Post a Comment