an unsettled face by hands held so dear
and tired viens strung amongst this screaming shell
all my comfort lies (i tell)
all my comfort lies (within)
a disheveled heart stacked neatly on cordovan field
without praise and just prays to this unjust design
forever we are only ourselves... and never perfected.
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Words are words... weather you feel them or not. Emotion is triggered differently for each. It's very much like russian roulette. Goodnight friends.
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2 comments:
Kirk Cameron's face pisses me off...
Also. sweet blog dude...I like your words.
fluid motion poetry:)
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