another winters gone through yesterdays
open door.
and only if i have a bit of space
to breathe in all this air
silence never is a satisfaction here,
not in this place.
the wall jump all night
here we do not do it our way
here the lights brighten the ceiling
that reflect off the floor
and the thunder- well it never sounded so-
so fucking provoking.
the rain has never sounded so weak
the clouds never been
so pathetically painted a dim shade of gray.
this bore gets too old
and all i want is satisfaction
we dont get that here
all i want is another spring to shoot through the window
as the breeze brings me my demanding air.
x
No comments:
Post a Comment