I can see the world through a murky lens clouded by storms of my making And if I am cursing that which I can’t see then, it’s only myself I’m forsaking
Here lately the Sandman mocks me with his calls to sleep that are nothing more than brutal sarcasm To report to my bed at night is the highest level of futility Even the sheep are laughing I’m here all week
Soft pink rose petals touched his lips that day and burned through his body like the sun through the wings of Icarus For he had reached for ecstasy and cared not for consequence It was a good day to die
That fleeting moment of divine inspiration floats like a leaf on a warm Autumn day Gather it quickly and pull it close to your heart before a cold wind comes and blows it away
Men are ugly Women are not Men are such hounds because women are hot Their desires are simple Not very complex Risking life and limb For the chance of ***
We can outrun the wolf on a good day We can’t cry enough on a bad day And sometimes we fight to get through the night frightened of all we could not say