Half livin' in '98 ain't good.
THE REST OF IT GOES HERE
Drowns My Solitude
May the moon bring the dried flowers from the wedding bouquet.
Deep in the brain's red violence drowns my solitude,
And every leaf on every tree is a leaf of black.
I don't know how to get myself back, I don't know how . . .
Yet the wind and stars bring snatches of the voice I loved,
And constellations outline the profile of your weeping face.
My memory is like scripture where truth can be hidden.
I should be happy to be free with my beer and bag of weed.
I should rejoice in the release from your anger and tears.
I shouldn't look through the photo albums.
I shouldn't talk to myself before bed.
There is a ring under the pillow.
Never, ever put it on.
Sunday, June 3, 2007
Drowns My Solitude
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
I think I remember those days, Its all about the Cheddar
'And constellations outline the profile of your weeping face.'
probably i like stars a lot, but this one is just a lovely description.
Post a Comment