.



winds

Blowing thru

///

The graveyard yields it's dead

///

too numb

The poet falls face down

///

The brazen nakedness

Twitching soundlessly in the mud

<>

She never felt a thing

Fake love

Fake sorrow

//

Winds blow

The graveyard creaks and moans

//


We were dead before we died

Face down in the mud



.