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Dark Poetry #4
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symphony_of_thoughts
Member
since 2003-08-03
Posts 95
Somewhere

0 posted 2004-11-23 04:11 PM


Held this head in hands
And thought what catastrophe
Hath befuddled my existence
No substance, yet platforms existed
And purgatory reigns
Which gives an empty uplifting

How easily soft heads slip between
So loose finger slits
And drip drop, Drip down
Between head and earth
Causing something most awful
Pressure from the lingered
That susupended head heat

A dry heat at worst
That supresses the vapors
So valuable to stable existence

Head recipes lost as grassy dews
Once and before evermore

[This message has been edited by symphony_of_thoughts (11-23-2004 07:48 PM).]

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