Something has swamped and stumped
the growth of that child,
and I am sick at the thought of it.
Something has swamped and stumped
the growth of that child,
and I am sick at the thought of it.
everyday with their chance anew –
dreams of getting there –
ballsy, pretentious –
the mind of Christ
and came in search of me.
I ducked in my hole
and peeked through the sticks
to see if he could see.
It becomes a sea to sail on
I have a bitter spot,
a little burn lodged
in my side
still smoking
Should a fly alight
and rest there awhile,
then we might know
how fine a fiber it is.