The poison of Dylan and Eric,
infectious and somewhat unreal,
perhaps the poison I have of theirs tasted,
is not from their mouth but their heart.
I feel the weight of the wave fall upon me,
their end is the bloom of a daisy,
not smiling, but a release ripping them apart,
my womb wishes to comfort them.
And at once I am quiet, exhausted,
ready to sail and walk among clouds,
only to feel the earth beneath me,
occupied I leave and choose to be Leila.
May 26, 2013
May 26, 2013 at 6:26 AM UTC
The poison of Dylan and Eric,
infectious and somewhat unreal,
perhaps the poison I have of theirs tasted,
is not from their mouth but their heart.
I feel the weight of the wave fall upon me,
their end is the bloom of a daisy,
not smiling, but a release ripping them apart,
my womb wishes to comfort them.
And at once I am quiet, exhausted,
ready to sail and walk among clouds,
only to feel the earth beneath me,
occupied I leave and choose to be Leila.
