Deep in the woods we did gather.
Shared madness in a brothers confession.
Speaking underneath the stars of past failures and present
problems.
Towards the bottom of the jar and nearest to the flame.
Time cast a vision of nothing to remain.
You can experience a life and never truley live.
Poets unknown even to themselves gather around this fire
Truth's of lies vanish with the embers into a cold winters night.
Stories of women false yet a pain in a watercolors thought.
The jar glows to the edge is where you must find a beginning
at times my friend.
In the darkness shadows cast alone shared by fires light.
Hours are lost but we gain the moments and forget the
regrets in a ******* up place we find more solice
than any preacher could understand.
Life is a trainwrecks call on a dying wind.
The jar almost empty burning in thought.
The woods a church of life the fire's warmth the blood 0f
night.
In a place I seldom understand yet often recall.
Togather we understand.
The true emptyness of it all.
Feb 27, 2011
Feb 27, 2011 at 11:52 PM UTC
Deep in the woods we did gather.
Shared madness in a brothers confession.
Speaking underneath the stars of past failures and present
problems.
Towards the bottom of the jar and nearest to the flame.
Time cast a vision of nothing to remain.
You can experience a life and never truley live.
Poets unknown even to themselves gather around this fire
Truth's of lies vanish with the embers into a cold winters night.
Stories of women false yet a pain in a watercolors thought.
The jar glows to the edge is where you must find a beginning
at times my friend.
In the darkness shadows cast alone shared by fires light.
Hours are lost but we gain the moments and forget the
regrets in a ******* up place we find more solice
than any preacher could understand.
Life is a trainwrecks call on a dying wind.
The jar almost empty burning in thought.
The woods a church of life the fire's warmth the blood 0f
night.
In a place I seldom understand yet often recall.
Togather we understand.
The true emptyness of it all.
Sometimes the edge is the place where I understand
myself best.
Im sorry for this one but im losing it as a writer.
And when that happens often to the edge I return.
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