April 26, 2011

windy sage mountain rage with teeth as nails to hide buried where the burn nears a bottom and the well starts to draw...a restless night with the wind talking to me,whispers of rain and the insane passage of time humanity parades around in...fleas treat their host better than we treat our Eden ,reckoning comes lightning switched strafed in a forked language we long ago forgot how to speak without losing ourselves to its mad call...

1 comment:

  1. buried where the burn nears a bottom

    I just misread this as " ... where the bum nears a bottom" :)

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