oh, if i could

Yellow

i'd run nails
through your shirts
and deep into the boards below you
I'd hold you down
and weep in your face
and pray
the salt was still worth something

you

ethereal

corporeal someplace where your spirit is sent elsewhere for love

setaside2

the reply is muffled by the lace,

heart on your sash...

why the eyeshadow bleeds so purple in the shadows of an evening storm.

the rain may wash

the hands torn

and burned by a travel through the hair.

love is nobody's martyr.

the grace the rapture the glory the net,

oh so captured and sopping wet in this daily drizzled haze.

the salt is worth the devil's fear;

that epoxy bond so strong, so forthright,

that the night may bow and gaze upon itself-

its deepest respect the urn within which we slumber-

ashes to ashes flung upon this lidless wonder.

the flames are not remembered,

the passion full fledged and fleshed out amongst the leaves in the autumnal tide pool.

whither goest thou, young angel?

and whence doth the questions arise?

your answers were flung upon this lidless sky,

dust to dust your proven why.

take your tears of salt and hydrogen,

smear them away.

let them not darken your tailored silk, holding fashion in their sway.

it is neither the flag we wave nor is it the prose we read

i remember the nails,

i planted those seeds

and your love came back to me;

the net the glory the rapture the grace

all for one kiss

upon my face.

Being Enlightened

BhagavadGita

Originally posted by setaside2
the reply is muffled by the lace,

heart on your sash...

why the eyeshadow bleeds so purple in the shadows of an evening storm.

the rain may wash

the hands torn

and burned by a travel through the hair.

love is nobody's martyr.

the grace the rapture the glory the net,

oh so captured and sopping wet in this daily drizzled haze.

the salt is worth the devil's fear;

that epoxy bond so strong, so forthright,

that the night may bow and gaze upon itself-

its deepest respect the urn within which we slumber-

ashes to ashes flung upon this lidless wonder.

the flames are not remembered,

the passion full fledged and fleshed out amongst the leaves in the autumnal tide pool.

whither goest thou, young angel?

and whence doth the questions arise?

your answers were flung upon this lidless sky,

dust to dust your proven why.

take your tears of salt and hydrogen,

smear them away.

let them not darken your tailored silk, holding fashion in their sway.

it is neither the flag we wave nor is it the prose we read

i remember the nails,

i planted those seeds

and your love came back to me;

the net the glory the rapture the grace

all for one kiss

upon my face.

i weep at your feet.

setaside2

wow hey...

it makes me feel... i don't know...

it worked.


<sad smile> it worked.


seta.

Yellow

no no sad sweet pete
betta seta