Saturday, November 12, 2011


I killed myself yesterday,
and the day before,
and probably tomorrow.

It's all about words, you know.
About words.

Even tomorrow
words will stand up,
stand right up
and shout.

But, the wind
will blow
all those words away,

and no one will hear
those words
had to say.

Better we listen
to the wind,

and put our money
under the mattress.

and the wolves came down
from the hills, and there
is nothing in from of them
and nothing behind them

it is as if the world is one
day behind itself, and
Heaven has moved on,
searching for its own Heaven

and we are stranded between
what Heaven was and what
Heaven will be, and  I may
not be a great artist like
Van Gogh, but I still have
two ears
and the wolves came down

I have surrendered; her love, the victor.

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