Walking End
My opinions forced through the pet door, I talk from a porclean doll mouth
praised on the head this crestfallen child, even a haunting lullaby tires
with my lips pressed deep I say goodbye like first steps faulter
but isn't it better to be dredged from strong waters
than surface on th walking end? red flagged with dependancy issues
what make me cling to a love life filled with antiques
these thoughts keep me in the tub water longer, till my fingers shrivel
not a girl delegated into a corner anymore, my decorous debacles lapse
I know you're no generations' gentleman but won't you leave
a swarthy sheath over my stupor, i flush sanguine when
combatted with your sanctimony avast! this impasse
sure I always mull on it before I quip and the old wounds
they playfully tweak, tyrannizingly we repeat unremittedly this rancorous rapture
on the walking end.
Copyright © Noel Johnson | Year Posted 2009
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