Days pass so fast beween those hills
the ones of suffering delt with skill
A heart not clensed from ill design
softer than silk, fresher than pines.
I write this thousenth letter with a mix
the juice of my oragans, stones and sticks.
So hang around if you feel alone,
and hear the letter leave the stone
and become bone from a bush.
Cast 'tween lands of firery ice
my body acts; I pay the price.
******* of a blueprint, my cardboard genes
still fail to smell a rotting dream.
The clean produce with an iron strength,
a deadly aurora of graveyard stench.
Between the rosebuds, black as soot
lies my weed-bush pushing roots.
Free to amend, from time itself;
Id then be able to cure my self.
Days do pass fast beween these hills
the ones of dementia, of feeling ill
A heart not yet ready to resign,
for there is hope in Valentine.
Feb 14, 2015
Feb 14, 2015 at 6:23 PM UTC
Days pass so fast beween those hills
the ones of suffering delt with skill
A heart not clensed from ill design
softer than silk, fresher than pines.
I write this thousenth letter with a mix
the juice of my oragans, stones and sticks.
So hang around if you feel alone,
and hear the letter leave the stone
and become bone from a bush.
Cast 'tween lands of firery ice
my body acts; I pay the price.
******* of a blueprint, my cardboard genes
still fail to smell a rotting dream.
The clean produce with an iron strength,
a deadly aurora of graveyard stench.
Between the rosebuds, black as soot
lies my weed-bush pushing roots.
Free to amend, from time itself;
Id then be able to cure my self.
Days do pass fast beween these hills
the ones of dementia, of feeling ill
A heart not yet ready to resign,
for there is hope in Valentine.
