Tuesday, November 17, 2009

In A World Where Grammar Does Not Exist


swing these winds, dear doe
swing the winds and let the
dews foil your drowsy cheek.
let the words trail over
your sweet tongue
and heart of clumsy steel,
a wink away from
the wisp of wit.
i wish i had the clamor
to be fed with
fiery passions again,
but my fire has long doused,
and amongst the ashes
there lay my grief
of a lost heart.

you took my passion with that
insignificant word coming
from that more idiotic
piece of crap.
i wish you success,
but this shall be last
word for you,
and my last penance.


- In A World Where Grammar 
Does Not Exist
So Sue Me