I HEARD DEATH WHISPERING MY NAME

In the shallows of junkyard avenue Where fiery-red stallions are mounted by devils And desolation is your last cigarette I staggered from the weight of her kiss As distant cannons sounded And angels sought shelter Fear is often the lonesome traveler And I drank from her cup, hungrily, thirsty She was my sustenance, my manna from heaven And I courted her with both wine and sweet song I lived in her dead embrace And never tired of her hot breath on my flesh A man can bookmark his soul with a thousand wounds Yet never own a dream I left her a rose and words that I can no longer remember In the hidden places; on the darkest of nights She whispers still