it will be sweeter than the hours helplessly quaking in his skin,
self-wounded brain failing to still its minions,
quick to wit,
quicker to weary,
quicker yet to yearn
like the good snake to shed its mortal coil
and ride its crucifix to any heaven.
it will be sweeter than the hours helplessly quaking in his skin,
self-wounded brain failing to still its minions,
quick to wit,
quicker to weary,
quicker yet to yearn
like the good snake to shed its mortal coil
and ride its crucifix to any heaven.