Wednesday, May 18, 2011


The water washes away
blood and toothpaste stains,
the sounds of emotions spilling.

The windows are sealed
in hopes of containing
the smell of splendid isolation.
Foolish desires -- expectations,
hanging over our heads
like thick, suffocating
winter clouds.

Outside of this house of doubts.
there are things
that might astonish her.

Night sweeps over us.
Pride is swallowed,
the stars draw near,
vision conquers the mind.

Blasphemy is the language
of the back alley mercenaries
with broken hearts in their eyes.

Their love is hard and estranged.
Their god is painted on plaster.
Their queen is hiding in a church.

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