Friday, April 02, 2010

Overtakes The Sky.

I am the last. The wildflower runeth.
The dawn overtakes the sky.
The clouds rush sad as rivers,
And the cold is deep in things.
I wish I wasn’t the rushing tide.
The wind moans still in autumn.
You told me you wouldn’t speak
To me of mountains, rivers-
Blessings run coarsely through
Matted hair.
People are jealous of
Things that I say,
Jealous of my written words.
I can’t climb inside and outside,
Back and forth-
Your friendship means nothing
To me now. I never learned how
To speak. We don’t know what
Words are spoken,
In the language of suffering,
The commerce of suffering-
We yell at everyone,
And speak in songs,
Words too broken to be heard.
People are envious of my scars.
They bear the burdens of passion,
Of Zeus and his wings.
The light is heavenly in the sky.
We are aching in our words.
My thoughts are flightless.
My mother sleeps in her bedroom,
And a cat yowls outside.
No one hears me screaming.
No one hears the words, like blood,
Pouring from my echoed
The long-lost soul of someone
Who says goodbye.
Goodbye to this world.
Everyone wants to fight, anyway.

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