If only we could run with out using or feeble legs ....
Then we could move in a way that would actually allow us to escape this dumbfounded lack toast intolerant dismay....Unhinged & swinging these thoughts become a door covered in dry pink paint old and confused ...peeling off to show the dead wood underneath....through this door is reality....a place of wondrous pain and truth...
Here is were the things grow and bring life to what once was writhing on the floors .....the surface of sins....cold stones bumpy....
But only for a moment.....then its gone...
be careful were you plant your feet...you might just get stuck....
No milk for the weary.......
No comments:
Post a Comment