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