mother, o mother the river and the rain do not shed your tears for me mother, o mother the sun and sky above fret not, rest easy i am dying mother, o mother caressing wind, tempestuous monsoon, i am sorry, sincerely, with love
i drink coffee when the moon is high and smoke cigarettes way before dawn i drink too much never enough and love too much, too many all the time and everything i do will one day **** me there will not be enough space on my tombstone to write down every cause of death and i will never live enough and i will never be alive never grow old even when i'm eighty with my knees and back forever aching i will not have learned enough to be anything more than young and i will die forever young unlearned, unwisened decaying body melting snow
is this not the body your spirit wishes to inhabit? well, it's not so bad you are more than that you are more than flesh and more than blood you are love and you are sorrow you are the brush, the paint, the canvas and this body will not contain you and this body will have no dominion and may this flesh fall apart at the seams and may you sprout free bathed in angelic light you are not this body you are the eyes and all they see you are the heart and all it feels sprout free
Love is A river That rages In stages. Wanting to be Free it climbs Its banks as if Wanting to see What is on Each side. So comes Forth the poem From just One line "Time is a river."
That one line was from a poem by Willow, here on HP. Oddly (wink-wink) enough the title is "Time is a River."
the mists have returned to this ancient wood what a time to light up a cigarette or two and pretend like nothing's changed and nothing ever changes make myself believe that on the filter i don't taste her lips and in the mist her eyes glancing back and forth her lips around my cigarette her eyes around my secret sorrow and my body and everything i ever was in the woods i am collapsing my body twitches and i decompose the nicotine has done me in i swear it was the nicotine i swear