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Mar 2013
The world is stagnant, but I'm running fast, I'm running mad

How can I sleep softly in a crib 
when there are no worthy arms to cradle me

And protect me from my self-injurious rib

?

I pass toy soldiers on the street

Craving for contact but failing to meet

The eyes of one who means no deceit

Who's touch and taste sings more sweet

than that of a mouth-watering, mind water-boarding treat
Written by
Rebecca Sasha
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