Oh my God
They’ve got angels sweatin’ like Helots
workin’ their little halos ’til the bones combing them deserts
my figure eight knotted
lifeline defined traffic
the way my schoolin’ end-less-ly defined every day
one exquisite fit of crisis rivets and octagon of red
to the ceiling above my bed
it’s not a conversation piece, like public spectacles
leashed more of a clue
so when I wake up to the rains I’ll be one step ahead of you
I slide like kodachrome,
wrote a poem for every planet
tracked their mileage from the sun in an envelope
licked it, stamped it
got eight thank yous in the mail, but nine planets means there’s one left
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Air Supply(????? ) ☆ Sunset
Amon Amarth ☆ Free Will Sacrifice
See them gathered on the plains now See an army strong and vast As long…
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