pools of water collide into a slow orgy of
blue and clear and murky all in one.
the cold tired days reflected upon it,
show the fatigue the world has shared.
it's a sick twisted kind of love,
sadistic in it's own beauty.
feeling bad will never feel so good again-
washing away the impurities in a pool filled
to the brim with drab realities and
bitter truths.
and one single drop of blood,
a reaction by the masses.
frenzied, they all run to the source-
devouring it's pain, devouring it's doubt.
tantalizing, really. mouthwatering,
a crecendo of frantic fever.
and if this single drop will tempt you so
what will it be when i finally let go?
let the gash gush from my barren arms
where the sharks will tear me
as i bear my voice-
drowning in the orgy of the beauty
of the imperfection in the pools
of fragmented life and light
and completed death.

05/02/2003

Posted on 05/03/2003
Copyright © 2025 Andrew S Adams