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
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