Sunday, August 02, 2009

one last effort

Tears, that half stop in my eyes
Shreds I snatch and scratch all around
My face I hide behind the veil
As I listen to the haunted sound

Tonight again the color altered
The light split in seven sounds
As my day dressed as groom
Married my night in seven bounds

Scratches became scars yet show
And bleed enough for them to hound
Those trickles I still hold in my eyes
Trickles that will fertile the ground

No no I must hide, burst open myself
Parts torn and sewn for parts to pound
And hang over the seven skies
Split in light and split in sound

DIALECT. left to time, it withered, like a dead corpse hung from wall, after the sentence. no poems to defend, no stories to tell, n...