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Close your eyes
Tell me what you see Written on the walls of your tomb Who tagged you? Be graphic about the graffiti that rests behind those lids Where does your pleasure live? 5,000 years of hidden treasure It is time to raid your own tomb Heal your own wound When ashes turn to dust All I ask Is to be wrapped tightly In memories of ecstasy No money or morality necessary
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AuthorI am a poet, for better or for worse. It is a way in my being that, ironically has no words. It is a way in my being that finds me when I, and helps me to, forget. I am a poet, for better or for worse. Archives
November 2021
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