Tuesday, December 06, 2005

Okay.

your story wraps around me,
and the boiling pots of blood,
don't give me a direction go -
maybe climbing a little further
;colder in the setting mountains, come
down from the sun, Apollo, and
let me fall, burn and bright away.

the summer dwindled away into a ball, now
the ice and frost and dead insects believe
in something more than this love.

to this eye, there is no rememberance,
hiding below in the caverns
; count out the darkness - drive to the echos
that you cause every day.

in my mind, you have no idea
lost in the drying sidewalk
and thoughts of you, in the wind
going around melting with ice
you're so much more
than anything i've had before.

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