Monday, September 17, 2018

Running

Here, the poison cup;
here, the cool hand from a vanishing dream.

I want to be an animal, running.
All my life, thorns, and branches across the path.

The same sun that rises, now goes low.
In the morning, the cup, the hand, and confusion between the two.

All my life, the same blood across the path.
I want to be an animal, running.

5 comments:

don't be stupid.