Monday, January 12, 2009

all apologies:

face to face screaming 'save me' from their fallen trees
the crazy cannot save the crazy. all apologies
the lucid aren't much better, all their prophecies
are nothing more than empty weather masked as homily
can't they see their soliloquies are nothing more than wind and breeze
the empty exhale filigree that seeps out from their lung sacks
their metaphors and similes, they cover up the simple themes
that life left to its own disease can't be held under thumb tacks