If only my cracked lips
Might be wetted
If only my wrecked feet
Might be bound with salve
I might trust again
In your provision
Yet here, in the desert
Of the soul, I awaken
To the truth of my oases
I see the sand I've devoured
I see the well of the dead
I don't see you anywhere
Train me to see with
Your Great Spirit's eyes
I am not the father
I am not the son
But to your astral web
Of connection, I belong
I do not ascend alone
I do not dwell in the sky
I do not have wings
I am not alone
I belong, am welcome,
In you, my home.
Posted by Hans Andersen
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at
3:29 AM
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Nothing to say
But moan a bit more
About it. The leg
The dead feeling in it
Worming its way up and up
And up, until...bang!
There goes the heart
The rupture brings
A rapture
Evacuates my memories
Everything I ever knew
Jettisoning out in
Sequence: my first
Of this, of that
(You wouldn't care as much
But to me it's all I had)
And now I've said everything
And the room reeks
And it reels
Disgusted, you flee my flood
Bits and bytes around the ankles
Waist deep now
Birthdays, weekdays, weddings
Last dance, last Christmas
Last night, last light
Drowned, finally.
No error, just
Nothing more to say
Posted by Hans Andersen
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at
8:12 PM
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