truth: my branches have grown so far past it
i am skeptical, not really, more open than closed. but this does not make me fully a skeptic, just a curious george with more to live for then the ten dollars burning bleeding holes in my leather wallet. i keep my heart on a silver string; it's gold with a black stone, so it's set in stone, it's written in blood, it hangs loose on my neck and somewhere there's a strong hand with patience that'll never allow me to forget. the guilty insecurities that drove me back and forth, swerving and swaying against the cold current of this upside down rainbow; 12 years. there's things these people will never know, never guess, what could it be? i've moved my mind over land and sea, loosing the flaky skin unbelievably. i dont so much as doubt the rules anymore, doubt the way of life anymore, i'm bigger than any bedroom. i'm more beautiful than that.
the force of my love was strong, the sea lion lay down long. song in the air. why should singer care? when singer can be among song.
No comments:
Post a Comment