You can have most things,
not everything.
We've got to figure out what to do,
with me,
with you.
Whether we are just making holes in the wall,
or not.
This is where satan lies,
in between heavens thighs.
Demurely marking the way
to the gate.
We are not responsible for
some random twist of fate.
Signs all accounted for,
we found out way too late
to stop anything.
Wrapped and strangled,
ripped and wrangled,
lying in a heap
on the floor.
Wide eyed with stupid wonder
disaster bound and prone to blunder.
No comments:
Post a Comment