Soot upon my hands

RSS

By Loneliness is condescending •

On and on we warp these words Day in day out they spin a song Nothing I would care to hear I seek solace in your speaking silence We misspeak the words of nothing Saving our dying breaths This is nothing I wish to write about

This poem has no votes yet.

To vote, you must be logged in.

To leave comments, you must be logged in.

May 22, 2006 17:25lost the lonely dead

i love the title i dont know what to make of 'this is nothing i wish to write about'accept that you are hiding secrets about monkeys and dying breaths