Another mercury morning,
I think of words sometimes
and needs existing as thirsts
for mayhem and destruction
to spill over my pain,
for silence and cold to hold me
I taste the thought, you think I can't?
polarity is a cursed word in this,
this remnant of a meted cause,
this bow stapled to my arteries
turning my blood to strawberry fields
burning at sunset.
I could write anything I wish, all over, anywhere,
to try exorcise the demons and tears,
but nothing can shut off the burning tide
of a mutinous heart no longer here,
sleeping on the tip of love's turning spear..