I know my way out of this prison
but keep pecking at the trigger
for the food
that will never come again.
the sweetness of lust tinged with hope of love
the hope of being known
hope of being held in safety
the yearning to have it be real
I know the way out of this prison
but keep looking backwards
for the hands
that are closed on empty air
the sweetness of hands reaching out in yearning
aching with a promise
burning in their own dark loneliness
the hope that this might be real
I know this way out of my prison
know if I keep on walking
the walls will fade into mist
the light and air clean on my face
the sweetness of honesty and life
reclaiming what they've nurtured
my heart is safe in my own hands
and I hold today, which is real
Apr 6, 2010
Apr 6, 2010 at 11:58 AM UTC
I know my way out of this prison
but keep pecking at the trigger
for the food
that will never come again.
the sweetness of lust tinged with hope of love
the hope of being known
hope of being held in safety
the yearning to have it be real
I know the way out of this prison
but keep looking backwards
for the hands
that are closed on empty air
the sweetness of hands reaching out in yearning
aching with a promise
burning in their own dark loneliness
the hope that this might be real
I know this way out of my prison
know if I keep on walking
the walls will fade into mist
the light and air clean on my face
the sweetness of honesty and life
reclaiming what they've nurtured
my heart is safe in my own hands
and I hold today, which is real
4-4-10
