Tuesday, June 19, 2007

2 cuts from my head, 2 paragraphs for my friends


the lonely angel

boy sees house on fire
boy feels nails in his feet
boy lets heart float higher
he can't smell his defeat

and the angel's reporter

so i sat there mixing the paint
my mind sat with me
without restraint
i flooded mind with the rhythm
of hurt much worse than my own
but stoic children
their voices filtered through
myself so sadly not in my hands to disown
and i bled the colors
i rubbed it in
a little black applied for hours
my output then matched the shade within.
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