Brosco sips demons,
cups runneth over,
his back snaps like a twig.
Brosco rests,
sunlight stings his wounds,
whipped by roots in italics.
Brosco stares,
and sees warm fire,
and carefully embraces.
Brosco sighs,
takes in sweet, poetic breaths,
smiles ignite his heart.
Mar 3, 2011
Mar 3, 2011 at 5:11 PM UTC
Brosco sips demons,
cups runneth over,
his back snaps like a twig.
Brosco rests,
sunlight stings his wounds,
whipped by roots in italics.
Brosco stares,
and sees warm fire,
and carefully embraces.
Brosco sighs,
takes in sweet, poetic breaths,
smiles ignite his heart.