|
of the fall by Johnny CrimsonPet the Indian fever that beats its chest
and breathes heavenly breaths
high into the hills.
Pet it with your throat.
Set the sights and click your jaw
twice for "more"
once for "lets sleep."
Relive in the after world of silence
and dissolution.
We swam in blue puddles that
bleached our skin
and the dye seeped through our hearts
and past our humanity.
Past our illusion of faith
and the ruling figures of the sky.
Past the horned beast that may or may not walk among
us.
We needn't care who see us now.
Let us fuck into eternity
without worry or defeat or shame.
With your blue skin on mine,
nothing more will matter.
Now if I can only get you to read this.
10/22/2009 Posted on 10/23/2009 Copyright © 2025 Johnny Crimson
|