How can I believe in God when just last week I got my tongue caught in the roller of an electric typewriter? - Woody Allen


13 nominations

I can still feel these icy remnants! Broken emotions crawling beneath my skin, Dragging me down, deeper into apathy. My rotten trees of belief swaying in this cyclonic mind, Disease riding on the wind, Drizzling on my thoughts... Vapour purged from the exhausted sky. Draining my brilliant hold on sanity, While these fingertips bleed on the ground they grasp. My knees brazen from the gravel in my veins; Highways for these spirits suffocating me with grief... Drowning me with their putrid awareness. Faith floating on the dead leaves, Where the Spiders play their sordid games, As I seep through the spaces between... Resting on the moist undergrowth of dark-desire. Colours melting into one that is none, Life fading into sleepy-death. While the warring-sun soaks into oblivion, Medicating this life too far from its destiny, And these insects, humoured by my brief presence, Dampened by the dew of fear...dead and consumed. 27 Jan 2005 (RSA)



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