Monday, September 12, 2011

Called you in at four
They said it hadn't been long
The nighttime swallows in the fire's gaze
And cancer sighs the plague infected
To whom did you address
That scar-tinted open wound?
Wandering freely
Before the malnourished get their fill
There was a time, I
admit
But illness bears the labored dreams
Encompassed minds of lost desires;
The irrational becoming fixed
Irony of stupidity doesn't come so close
To you as it so strongly chooses
me
I've never felt so realistically
foolish