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View Full Version : Forged Ahead of the Death of My Cremated Soul


Idlewarrior
09/04/08, 02:50 PM
Laid to rest, limp at the feet
Bald ball of hair
Chasing ends of scratches left
From the events of the days
Shaped to fit the unfair

Sleep my catalyst
My baby boy
Get off the spot blackest
on your clothes

Darling child
Cast your shy
Crude humored bile
From your mouth, to lie
In the dirt setting fire

It catches from the wind
Ink vacuuming the sky
A leaded pen in hand
It writes the bible

Steady strokes labeled
A place of certainty
A mark made space rebelled
Against the wars and the fights

Join together, alone in our amity
Sleep for days, revel in stupidity
Check the tick tocks of your
Ticking clocks, confirm the hour
Our darkest, may we see
Troubled long pathways

My boy has so much to say
Mother, I do, but I’ve become
An umbrella, only open
On one end, And I’ve cut
Holes that represent my eyes
Voids that hide what is felt inside
They’re cliché circles in time