The Ink On My Notes
Two and a half years is the lifespan of an exactly eighteen year old girl
Her birth was on a yellow green sunday;
Her death was on a dadaic saturday.
Saw her ghost on a dirty thursday:
Saw nothing but her skinless jaw,
Her ever unseeeing eyes
And the forever promise of happiness
As we were two finite entities - six meters too far.
A pessimistic heart is blood-empty
And is nothing more than aorta and ventricle.
Scoff as the feeble body meanders on soulless corridors,
trying to ferment rancid brain with phantasmal images.
Now I bask along God's holy zephyr,
Waiting for emancipation.
grasseseatcows
4/28/2005 11:56:00 AM