Anatomy By Braille
Like a coal, her hair's afire
Not bright, but burning all the same;
And so inside me burns desire:
A low, smouldering, crimson flame.
Alone In The Crowd
It's times like these I start to fear
That I was born for a different sphear:
It seems there's not much for me here
Nothing, no one that I hold dear.
A Thought About Thought
Now and then I think too much
Or sometimes I think so,
Yet thoughtlessness seems like a crutch
For those who dare not know.
I've heard it said that pain
Often lays entwined with pleasure,
yet most rent them in twain
Not wanting the both of them together.
Oh those eyes, those bright brown eyes,
Like some scared mountain spring
Once served this dusty traveller
With needed drink and filled canteen.
Cutting Ties To Simpler Times
I gave up my pride for fifteen dollars
And sat as she cut it with care,
Wondering why, for my pride, I paid fifteen dollars
As I sat, sinking slowly into the chair.