2003-01-07
the dead
:: cursive ::
somewhere lost
beside the strong
willed facade,
there lies a
thorn of braverytouching palaces
in the sky,
bright with meaning,
a secret
slaveryconditions are spiteful,
so forget
your false
disposition and
sunny skiesno more
am i desperate,
i pity you,
your face
and your liesinfatuated details
composing
smoke shows
with a
cigarettepeering into
a shadow
nothing
but a
simple silhouettematched
and fallen
feet first,
into your
wall of redlet be
what stands still,
and always
bury
the dead
lunaadored at 10:20 p.m.