No kind of poetic Lambert
Comes to my safer hands
Than by tethering my veins
In for thy shackled calls
Pulverizing my corpuscles
Scattering my Icarus fall
Where the remedy gains
A fire in burning pain
No eternal wish, or
Milking of heaven
Does me a savior
But,
Just a deed
to my individual romance!
No comments:
Post a Comment