cold few hairs, it's november and i'm wearing shorts
i am known for my brevity
my bouts of wit. i am known for
turning puddles into ponds.
sea-side, beneath october sky
i never dreamed my eyes could raise so high
the one thing about working here is
the sunsets, and the smiles.
i guess that's two.
sit me down in a corner and make me
repeat the same two words.
sometimes all i need is a kick
sometimes all i need is a kick
sometimes
leaves fall farther than god will let
them, and i don't know how but they do it
and suddenly my shoulders decay
my arms decay
my heart decays
until all the king's horses and all of his men
put my body together again
No comments:
Post a Comment