Saturday, November 21, 2009

Dusty Old Things

Stepping stones of tar left
Sweet silk bandages of scarlet
Holding back the mud in my eyes
From ruining the surprise

I'm a swimmer of blood
I'm really a river
I swallow my shores
As you shiver and shiver

My last sober thought was say nurse or say train
They both came at once as it started to rain
I'm a swimmer of blood, I'm really a river
And sink into flesh like a sliver

No comments:

Post a Comment