Saturday, March 19, 2011

Ones




Shut my hurt, open my jerk,
slight of hand, of this I burp.
Taste of yuck, in gross berserk!
Mouth full of words, always coming.

Close my terror, close my rare.
Sit down upon this easy chair.
I need no grace I have taste,
it's all so much disgrace of me.

Shame I feel
Shame I kneel
Shame I heal
None of teal

Crying eyes, crying sun
Moon disguise, solar run
Live in distant fear of nighs
Help me now I've got no thighs.

Royal blue, ringing ears
Beaten, threw, of tempted years
Speak of this and you will tear
End is on and in top shear.

Hold my hand, I'm often near
My soul and heart are in arrears
Feet are torn, body cheers
The ones who did are not here.

K.A.P.
5/16/2009

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