XXVII

XXVII

Saturday, January 11, 2014

Sunday to Sunday

So they've all brought you to tears this way
I look through the open window for fear missing 
But it seeps through the window frame 
Like teary eyes adjusting to the moments past  
I'm on the outside looking in 
And the fear is Sunday
 From Sunday to Sunday... 

I kiss your lips, the body reacts 
Given all pain to heal and mend
Before, before... 
Arrive on time, in the right place
The message isn't received 
Your poems go unheard 
Wasted youth by the sound of trains. 
The panic is that you believe
Such a daemon exists...

Such a cruel world is captured and given as a gift...
Don't fail me now.
 From Sunday to Sunday... 

Try to explain the core to the heart again
Without a core your tree is just roots in the ground 
Hanging on to one until the last one breaks 
Maybe new ones form before the fall 
But you still feel alive and see the earths beauty
All while you feel you body deteriorating
Some heaven in your body and soul
Drips the blood from your veins down into the holy water 
Like the invitation of cancer cells... 
It will change me...
It has changed me...

But I was already sick enough. 

Given all pain to heal and mend
Before, before... 
Arrive on time, in the right place
The message isn't received 
Your poems go unheard 
Wasted youth by the sound of trains. 
The panic is that you believe
Such a daemon exists...

 

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