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| Daley Ranch © Tiffany Monique January 2014 |
dry souls smell like dead dreams sometimes
raisins, yes, shriveled by time
scratchy when they pass you by
jealous of your wings
dry souls hunt for your living blood
but lack the energy to do any good
they just smell of rotted fruit
curious people things
dry souls sing with fetid mouths
moments, seconds, minutes, hours
they lie constantly of their powers
chanting hateful songs
dry souls lay in wait for weakness
misrepresenting those born to meekness
within a facade they claim eliteness
hiding plagues and seeds gone wrong
dry souls have claws in their commentary
vilifying those lives not sedentary
defining disease as those not ordinary
"normal" is their land
dry souls waste away parasitically
living off the living just to die inevitably
still they clamor with whispering
chorus of the damned
With words, song & prayer,
TiMoHere's where you can read me:
www.alwaysalreadyalright.blogspot.com
www.pmeqme.blogspot.com
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