Thursday, May 25, 2006
The whispering, the mumbling t he moaning and the pleas Wood smoke wisping heavenwards Curls drifting to His ears The rent, a new car, better health More money, children able Safety and Our Daily Grace And bread upon the table So I shall ask for what I want For Him to come down to me And put me on... Sign in to see full entry.
Blind Date
please don’t touch me I’ll explode your fingertip will spark a sudden flash that leaves a smoking heap of ash the smouldering ruins of me leave me to the savage beauty of my madness, my despair please don’t touch me there fissures yawning wider just underneath my hair revealing cold debris of days... Sign in to see full entry.