no title

My only presence is in this tear. The welling of my eye an Ambassador for your despair. A dream. One dream. One dream can break, can fracture, can sever an eternity of searching. One dream. One moment turn heaven to hell. One day. One day the sun stayed away. Her fire burned out, tired. Forever the moon circled the earth, looking, searching, weeping. Weeping dust. Clouded dust. Clotted dust. Clouted dust simmering above the atmosphere making their bed, their home. She plays, she sings, her somber tune come home. Imploring. Come home.

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One Response to “no title”

  1. jon singer Verbal Spewage:

    you are a beautiful mystery

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