Brush fire haunts me down the lake
With the pennant in my hand fires
Last time you blindfolded me, raw and naked
Slant hill down, I ski to desires
That been a witness of your wish
All I were is a gamefish.
The outline of your jaws is my borders,
And your words are my slums
Why do I follow your orders?
The images in my skull
Is too holographic and proud
To get them all out.
I’m never back to the church walls
Where bishops are worshipping inflammation
In ecstasy within the polished temple halls
I am under your incantation.
I am running from you like a hare from fox
Through the bushes of thistle and lilac
Folks are throwing sharp rocks
At those who turns into bears behind their back.
bjorn
© Copyright: Неттер Линг, 2020
Свидетельство о публикации №120121405323
Свидетельство о публикации №120121405323
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