When I came home from work today there was glass on the floor.
The window, next to the front door. The cat had bloody paws.
When waiting, time slows like sticky sap from a tree
and nobody wants to get their hands dirty. I think I'm out.
I'm not comfortable with this level of vulnerability.
There isn't even any skin left.
You are the lightning of my life. Am I the leaping crocodile?
I could hit my head on the curb and dream about you for days,
and when I wake up my hands will still go right through you.
I am tired of taking myself so seriously.
There is always a hidden dragon in the fields, but I just want it all
to look like gold, swaying and singing.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment