"The desert bears only a scathing sun, and nothing more."
"What about mirages?"

Monday, March 22, 2010

Hole in Jeans / Cryptics.

You've got a hole in your jeans,
an obnoxious hole
that drives me insane.
And I'll fly away,
as fast as my wings will carry me.
You've got a rip in your shirt,
a little rip
that I love.
Makes me want to
pull all the soft cotton away
from the soft carress underneath.

- - -

There's still so much.
You'll never know.
Cryptic past,
all muddled up
in my memories.
I don't remember the reason
behind all the things
that I've done.
Are you sure,
that those you know,
and see,
and love,
and need,
are truly there?

No comments:

Post a Comment

"Write with our backs to the wind and our faces to the hard, bleaching sun."