Wednesday, April 7, 2010

Revolution

Tar drip down the sides of your mouth
left hoping the worst, you're singing in vowels.
(Still got a pulse, so this should be good.)
I'm waiting, anticipating all bare back beats
spilling from you're mind, now capsized, and
you've forgotten to keep time again.
Let's dance. And dream.
Someday we'll find meaning.

No comments:

Post a Comment