Wednesday, April 29, 2015

THE TREMOR



Now, to sit
by our fearful thoughts:
The tremor

O, Lord!
To write,
is to ooze
A cut of my heart

Only to venge
You vex
And, rattle
your fangs

Now, to sleep
by our impotent despair:
The death

O, Lord!
Not to cry,
is to loose
A chord of your womb

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