That's what the scriptures say. It has its own earthquake even though all you know is that once it must have meant something. The taste of blood, and Then I am the bloodied Victim,the blooded Pursuer, killer And meat. I close divided eyes and I Am there, tongue out, Lips parted over thoughtful teeth. I keep forgetting how it was and want to go back, then I remember.
Good fences make good behavior.
I miss the innocence of cigarettes, delusions of pipes, illusions of safety and sedation. Sometimes I ache to get high but there was the screaming I can still taste, stuck just below my heart. All rights reserved. Copyright reverts to author upon publication.