Running, cold, unclothed,
reaching, dirt dry lonely roads
I found you.
Meek, nearly silent
beside my quiet roar.
A tremble, lightning writing
across an already blinding sky.
When the darkness came, though,
as I knew it would, the brightest of beacons
burned good above the ill will and good
above the desiccated peace.
I sang to you sadly, honestly, of my art.
I do this all to myself, though, out of control
and unstoppably. Your knowing mouth opened,
you spoke.
The moment
I saw you I wanted
Your disease in me
May 17, 2017
May 17, 2017 at 3:23 AM UTC
Running, cold, unclothed,
reaching, dirt dry lonely roads
I found you.
Meek, nearly silent
beside my quiet roar.
A tremble, lightning writing
across an already blinding sky.
When the darkness came, though,
as I knew it would, the brightest of beacons
burned good above the ill will and good
above the desiccated peace.
I sang to you sadly, honestly, of my art.
I do this all to myself, though, out of control
and unstoppably. Your knowing mouth opened,
you spoke.
The moment
I saw you I wanted
Your disease in me
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