after image sky
Why do we feel without the stands,
The fevers that remind us of our death,
Those in gashed and oppulant soil.
Yell for me,
This grand apprehensive fantasy,
And for those that may be alone.
There stands another mountain,
Yet again in the mirror of the periphery.
Can't say I didnt want it,
Growing up in the slums,
Happened much with me.
But forget the idle chit chat,
Because we say something more,
More that stands inbetween me and holy god.
But I guess that's second nature,
When the peasants come to watch,
Me in drunken stupor.
Val halor said my name,
But what little does it mean,
When the flees bite your knees.
It's secondary to the fact of happenstance which brings us new day,
And new flowers,
Down by the water way.
I remeber writing poems,
Those which could be mistaken for make believe,
And the thing that keeps on growling inside.
The spinning of this compass,
And I feel just nearly free,
But I suppose maybe I'm just nearly crazy.
I wish I could have stood atop the mountain,
But the mountain is a reflection of me,
Tranquility in this after image.