I carry blue halls
to the back of the...
room.
I have solaced shoes
burning brightly
in everything I
tread on.
I can hear the twisting
of the intoxicated
beyond graves
waiting to be feeled.
I'll show all my creed and cold
to spite my rage
that I cannot be said
waning one
warning two
Lock this song for a journey under
the thousands who starve their notes
as I quantify that yours is ice
and I Apollo'Gize I could not convince
foreign a word it is no freeze.
The spiel is broken in mute alone
is dust-in-knees
a fate of whomever
would have been they who won your love.
We believed so red a color.
[14:04|08.2.011] ©c.thomas.carter
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