but i do, so this perhaps will be the only time i ever get closed to doing just that, the things i wish i could say more easily.
one arm on the floor
as the other pushes away
questions; what is this feeling
is this shall the tides shall turn
against construction
contre la vie
dreams become wishes
whispers in a not so virgin ear
lords who watch as the night falls
one hand grasping the floor
one thought floating in the air
an infection rotting from inside to out
a lost reflection
sin and doubt
left contrasting
a fall forever lasting
pits of dreary envy
as that hand searches out for serenity
a lost cause
a fallen angel
the saviour forgot to name him gabriel
without a second thought now
nor action that could salvage
peace to you
from the lord's mouth
and,
as that hand falls to the floor
rests the secrets of a night
delirious yet discrete
in two seperate directions
we find ourselves
yet what is left
the questions we ask
when nothing is left
and the saviour
is watching
during the depart of my own dignity.
