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Chances

Posted on Jan 13th, 2009 by spiderjar : shake off the exitdust spiderjar
Stab me
in the throat
or the heart
please

make me bleed
and let it trickle
into my esophagus

Where the elements of I
will mix and
become undone

so that I may
crumple into a pile of thin ash
unto the wooden floor
of this church I live in
I live in a church
a fly by night
an insect by the name of the moon
you victim you
dont succumb to soon
Access_public Access: Public What do you think? Print views (28)  
Tagged with: poetry, love, death, fear, ego

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