(no subject)

[kornleaf]

and with that sigh
the ghost of a gentle moon sinks
a silver river creeps by
taking with it
the half ideas and hopes at poignancy
and my beliefs in sanity

oh what is this angst?
sex looses its flavor
and liquor comes as cheaply as blood
the cards say love
but the cards are lying bastards
cast cheaply in graven dead images
faded photocopies of their former selves.

The charcoaled hole in my chest has returned
the ember-glow hooks pulling me towards
something again unknown
and i shake
unmoving
sighing again.