Goodnews mememugh Karibo


HURT


The breaths that foamed in my haemo is arid,
my soul to death is married.

Blackness, is the eyes of my emotion,
i smile at the noon,
to the soothe in the arms of rest in the grave

the dancers in that realm stretch to fetch my wrist,
sympathetic gestures downhere sieze the flow in our communes

tears mean i'll stay,
silence says i'll stray

in the lines i see the hem of you faking my eyes in the above

yesterday! Oh! That beauty in your purse, the hands that swum the night beam

the manly might in my voice, your NO has rumpled to celine's suprano.

My clarion wailings will haunt the next arms in the air

these heaves and grief will white the clouds stalking me, but in my eyes you roam

january's summer was our emerald,
now on that same spot i spill my heart

take your shadow off my left breast,
and let my tears sit to rest

the dusk rubbing the saliva of our kiss should hang there perhaps for eternity.

Submitted: Thursday, October 24, 2013
Edited: Thursday, October 24, 2013

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