12-05-2014, 09:01 AM
I can to see you
through the murk,
black hair of writhing eels,
traced across a face of white,
a darker edge concealed.
My hands had beat
on death's cold step
to hear how voices die,
the naming of the loves we lost
beneath our muffled cries.
They barged their catch
from torch lit shores
in irons held by night.
As water rushed too fast to bale,
our children begged for life.
through the murk,
black hair of writhing eels,
traced across a face of white,
a darker edge concealed.
My hands had beat
on death's cold step
to hear how voices die,
the naming of the loves we lost
beneath our muffled cries.
They barged their catch
from torch lit shores
in irons held by night.
As water rushed too fast to bale,
our children begged for life.
If your undies fer you've been smoking through em, don't peg em out