Wednesday, 4 January 2012

can't you see we're burnt up inside the same cinder cake,
we're caught in the same net, clamped in the same bear trap,
mouths open aghast, letting in the swirling wind,
silent in the summer time, frightened half to sin,
we are locked up in our own acedia,
sadness glistening on our skin,
ankles tied to stool legs,
stool legs teetering.

No comments:

Post a Comment