ON MY SLEEVE
My heart is breaking slowly
from a thousand small wounds
The scabs that bound it together
now gone
Peeled away one at a time
by life, uncaring and cold
Infected and bruised by
love's callous touch
A bleeding mass buried by
the bodies of a thousand dead dreams
All angry at how easily
they died
Pain now lives where hope
once dwelled
Nothing to do now
but bleed
Can you, my friend,
give cause
for this bloody pulp
to beat...
just once more?
Michael
-+++-+++-+++-
Sometimes I Wonder
Who are You?
You are who.
What is your name?
My name is not who I am.
What do I call you?
I call me-Me.
My name is a detractor
plowing the soil
in the Garden of Illusions
sow that
New Ones may grow
All that is me
is not
all that I am.
Open your "I"
before
it is Harvest Time
in your mind
the Fire burns
the Crop
ashes again
SOME things are
unnecessarily necessary.
Michael
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"What the bleep do we know"
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LET THE WORDS BE YOURSI'M DONE WITH MINE. --------------------------