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Poem

Lonely, naked, in the corn fields,
a stranger to this new awakening,
stitching upon new found flesh,
upon the recently perished dead.

A bloody vessel cannot sail,
and the pull-ness from the tide,
and the fields whip the wind gale,
and this leaves the shape open blind
the blind-ness sees with open shut eyes

spinning sweet, saliva,
to our child-hood waifa
innocence turns to antics,
bronze bleeding from spear,
your lips turn to frantic,
and I turn in, surrender defeated.

A tide is the bloody and thirsty,
a victim to grind of the axe,
sweaty eagles dive into the river,
to die and can't seem to relax.

The eagle's claws so sharp,
and the angels play the harp,
watching the hare ripped apart,
another gone glow, child eat the tart.
a witness to a storm of chaos,

the rodeo and all whipping lassos,
the burying and the death
shallow of the sands,
I break apart to bounce up to breathe,

The ending of a situation,
is the end of a creation,
fifteen years
can't find the gears,
lost in the now and here,
breathless and I fear.
the applause was the cause,

my craft became a special art.
I'm shot in my bleeding goose neck,
and rape of my end is my card's deck,
it will end with the joker's card,
or offensive song from the bard.

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