Drums are drums. beats me…. but they over-pray for rain. nuff said.
they sing in the choir of my invisible. but not so much
where i contain my rhythm where my loving heart is beating music to death.
Drums keep coming like Always.
why do I conquer sleep with poetry? how does it end?
it never does what you want
but You want IT to do.
you want it to slather the skin of the future
to get past the gathering of lonesome
and no other thing can rimshot
your quiet.