painted face
mud,
my arms have roots in this soil
rewind
my arms have roots in this soil
I ran –
I ran for the sundown
the silence
colored wavy red clouds
tiny,
the yellow was young
gray stalled
call me not
rusty scissored Todd,
cold
cold
the cigarettes I smoked
for love
blue dust
and nights in central park
rebound
cry
rebound
cry
rebound
the petrol skies
lost
in the eye
where do you end and when do I begin?
within
seek in
pages left wrong
the need to feel
right
I killed before I died –
stand tall
say grace
nothingness is asking for my space
the words
the waves
meaning or mess
mud painted face –
I caved
I gave
up, up and away
cripple
sum of all deeds
hope
hands in the stone
when expecting the least
I am the beast…