[#]
Okt. 24., 2007 | 09:40 am
No:: silvija
our feeble broke hour-glass lodger human pain; in bold
this is autumn after all
black is the color of our true love's hair
in all the rest I'm thoroughly deluded
but that's too many strings of words, from too much of it
my sickness is this horrible length and rumbling of my song
just a worn tool, at the far end, before the wall,
of cooly self-denying language
we know not any silence, not on the cards, that tardy joker casually redeems
and saves no situation
trying to sound less foreign to your native swamp
quite all there is
this is autumn after all
black is the color of our true love's hair
in all the rest I'm thoroughly deluded
but that's too many strings of words, from too much of it
my sickness is this horrible length and rumbling of my song
just a worn tool, at the far end, before the wall,
of cooly self-denying language
we know not any silence, not on the cards, that tardy joker casually redeems
and saves no situation
trying to sound less foreign to your native swamp
quite all there is