from this Morning... after the sweetest Moon...
so many times
per day
i fall into you
blackness
nothingness
not here
not there
not
you call me
grand daughter
Child of The Universe
you walk in grace
child
nothing occurs without my
every
tear drop
sew me up
the seem that rips
through the cleft of me
no longer must i bleed out
so thoroughly
to create alms
give thanks
sanguine, saccarine
the razor was so sweet
your attention calls
the day
10,000 men
armed to die
march off a high cliff
and drown into the sea
for surely the last battle we face
will be face to face
with our own masques and egos
may we be victorious this day
for today is a good day
to die
per day
i fall into you
blackness
nothingness
not here
not there
not
you call me
grand daughter
Child of The Universe
you walk in grace
child
nothing occurs without my
every
tear drop
sew me up
the seem that rips
through the cleft of me
no longer must i bleed out
so thoroughly
to create alms
give thanks
sanguine, saccarine
the razor was so sweet
your attention calls
the day
10,000 men
armed to die
march off a high cliff
and drown into the sea
for surely the last battle we face
will be face to face
with our own masques and egos
may we be victorious this day
for today is a good day
to die