bugs from my skin. The bullet I fired years ago has come back around time to sever the tightly fed tape that splays my life over brick and stone. Deja Vu. One step behind. I can rarely find the words you want to hear the most. Patronize my heart, dear child, for your sustenance. After all, the bomb we dropped together left the hungry world wanting safety above all. Go for it. I can't claw the bugs from my itching skin, so bathe me in money.
The cloud is thickest at the edges Lined with a hard coat To keep out the world below It hovers above Afraid of what it sees And each raindrop Tries to writhe away But it falls And we drink it Desperate to Have its magic.
Fly within And it's a kingdom of sun Of light inside A misleading mist It is most gentle at the centre And go in to find Your eye of the most wonderful Storm.
They fly on by Tiptoeing over the mountains Dancing over the cityscape One day they will see the ocean And one day so will I.
Supposedly a metaphor for hard journeys, the start and the finish are always the hardest, and the fear of failing is ever present. Sometimes when I try to make a point with my poems the words just go crazy.
A taste of the future has come to my lips, Sickly, but then, I asked for it The droplets forsook me and went to my eyes But nobody living has taken the sips Like I have drunk deep of the pit And the water was refreshing, to my surprise
I fortold the blessing, like a hand to the brow I carried the scars, like lines on my face, But ones that aged me more quickly I heaved at the thought of the then and the now My make up was dark, but light at the place Where I applied it more thickly
So tell me the truth, all those from beyond Explain the shadows under your eyes I don't understand how you sink to your knees A cowl of cold on me has been donned It never could bring me to rise For me and for life, we do as we please.