(no subject)
The sun has taken away
The movement in this wretched land
And as my blood turns to slush, then to dust
I begin to ossify
One hand after another
Arthritic claws of stone I will dig into the sand
Blue black ceiling with an endless floor
A sinking feeling, collapsing height
And as the air escapes my lungs in trails
I notice the fish
Mimic the colors I see
As oxygen takes with it my sense and sight
Art is dead and the grave's been made.
And we've buried love in the deepest shade
Of the tree that grows so crooked and bent
As the choir sang all of us wept
Did you know I actually gave a poem to someone? They had me copy one of my poems down on paper and sign it for them. It happened to be the rest of the little stanza above. I just remembered all that.
The movement in this wretched land
And as my blood turns to slush, then to dust
I begin to ossify
One hand after another
Arthritic claws of stone I will dig into the sand
Blue black ceiling with an endless floor
A sinking feeling, collapsing height
And as the air escapes my lungs in trails
I notice the fish
Mimic the colors I see
As oxygen takes with it my sense and sight
Art is dead and the grave's been made.
And we've buried love in the deepest shade
Of the tree that grows so crooked and bent
As the choir sang all of us wept
Did you know I actually gave a poem to someone? They had me copy one of my poems down on paper and sign it for them. It happened to be the rest of the little stanza above. I just remembered all that.