Telephone PolesHow do they do it, the ones who talk, murmur Like maddened flies, they buzz, The heat devouring their scenes They fly through wires of black delirium: Their true destination- to die, to twist, to bend, To reach their white heaven, their goal, in God’s own voice. The currents that take the murmurs, the bugs who fly, Are held by giants, so enveloped in their self- love, They do not notice their own clones, nor that Their path will end at ears of God They are the crosses, not intended for the church, For they have never held the corpses of angels.Telephone Poles
jealousyHow strange it seems When time bleeds through the cracks Everything around you is just a dream But everything it lacks Makes it a nightmare How hungry is my love To hold desire in its care And shelter me just like a dove My wings torn off, devoured To leave me helpless, so alone So desperate in the world powered By lust’s undying, undetermined tonejealousy
The only thought I hold Is time between my fragile fingers To turn the blood to hated mold Create a sweetened taste, that lingers And reminds itself Repeating its own death Like a forg
I am the fake behind the door, the little worm tha
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all you need is
LOVE
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all you need is
LOVE
you too
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all you need is
LOVE
katie.
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~*
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: fragilemuse.org : art prints: i
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