02-13-2014, 10:58 PM
To many aches in this body,
too much distance in this abode,
too long hanging on this edge,
has broken me until I’m whole.
Can you feel my love, though distance?
yours I can’t, although you say,
your love for me is ever subtle,
while my life fades away.
Love, the cut of a paper,
though many more times as deep,
deep freeze-dried, un-cried tears,
are the only kind you’ll weep.
What is it, that you carry,
from the trial of untried paths?
Me you keep from wandering off,
a nettles sting, sadistic staff.
In the silence of our madness,
not a movement, not a creep.
My strong steed you’ve broke’ your leg,
I do the deed, put you to sleep.
Can you sense me spiral down?
A falcon that was once a dove:
incognito, I am falling,
savor it, I steal your love?
too much distance in this abode,
too long hanging on this edge,
has broken me until I’m whole.
Can you feel my love, though distance?
yours I can’t, although you say,
your love for me is ever subtle,
while my life fades away.
Love, the cut of a paper,
though many more times as deep,
deep freeze-dried, un-cried tears,
are the only kind you’ll weep.
What is it, that you carry,
from the trial of untried paths?
Me you keep from wandering off,
a nettles sting, sadistic staff.
In the silence of our madness,
not a movement, not a creep.
My strong steed you’ve broke’ your leg,
I do the deed, put you to sleep.
Can you sense me spiral down?
A falcon that was once a dove:
incognito, I am falling,
savor it, I steal your love?
How long after picking up the brush, the first masterpiece?
The goal is not to obfuscate that which is clear, but make clear that which isn't.
The goal is not to obfuscate that which is clear, but make clear that which isn't.