23 mai 2014
5
23
/05
/mai
/2014
13:00
Rolling in the silver briar,
Flaying my skin, inside and out,
I let the earth drink from my veins,
And watch the skies drip golden showers
Over glossy open eyes, like porcelain
A child used to play with,
Striped valuables,
Rolling on the sacred paths
Of schoolyard memories.
We die. We live. We are.