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dafremen
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r.dafremen
I want to be where the garbage goes
to know my worth and sink my toes
knee-deep in the guts of my own self image.
An automated child.
I want to be where the hearts are cheap
and the wounds run deep.
Where the cuts flow green with envy
for what I do not know.
I'd like to feel that the sky's gone dry
that my weary eyes may cease
To haunt my tortured sleep with tears that gush in streams for this ceaseless struggle.
Oh Lord have mercy on this if you are a God at all..or just this empty husk?
Encroaching ocean grinds away from dawn to dusk;
I'm a desert now.
So I want to be where the garbage goes.
To cease my struggle
perhaps to know the company
of those like me,
who long to cease this march of grief;
hold each other long
and be at peace.
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