The earth is opening up and swallowing whole, like that ice cube that makes it past your lips and hits the back of your throat before you can arrange the throat muscles to block its passage. A cold trail can be felt gliding down and then no more cold--no more feeling, just the lump that has settled and is waiting to be melted. I am waiting for this lump to melt away.
They are too young to be dying.
Not that death is discriminatory, I suppose.
And what do I know with running nose
or melted eyes
shaking in stillness?
Nothing more than empathy
Nothing less than common "senses"
And what do I feel that is not felt by anyone else?
This dread.
It is a sheath for the sharpness of understanding;
Dull me down, oh dull me down
you mother fucking universe--spawning ominous oblivion;
sacred suns
sandy havens
And bombs of love that kill.
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The daily jazz of my mind, as pure & honest as possible; but know that words are themselves filters of the original thought/idea.
