Monday, February 4, 2008

They would love to blame it on drugs

They would love to blame it on drugs.
Today I woke up with a snake on my face. Heat and pain are together, according to the paper. I believe I'm entirely sane.
The way you looked when you crumbled the sky that told me I should cry out... no, maybe try out for the opening as God. I hear he's vacationing, leaving his station for a year or so.
Those tears that haven't dried must be running somewhere still. Colorado? No, down your chin till they disappear. Now you've got them under cuff.
What did you call that bluff? By it's name .. and ít's only a syllable away from mine.
My position is with churning with want of an overthrow. I'm being directed towards Goddess. There's not enough romance in God, they say.

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