Sunday, September 27, 2009

Getting Lost on I40

"And now my bitter hands
Chafe beneath the clouds
Of what was everything Oh the pictures have
All been washed in black" Black- Pearl Jam

Black has the mourning
while the sun rises red
blood spilt in the night
becomes the dead
yet my friend things
appear different to the mind
than the soul
combatting one another
but it doesn't matter
in the end we all succumb to black
because we can't see past our sunshades
while music speaks louder than these words
for they are nonsensical to most
riddles in my head
under my skin
please try to guess
where it all begins
perhaps I've begun to hope
all the while knowing
the mourning will remain
draped in black
until the sun rises red

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