Just another way to walk
Grass/Snakes/Glass/Air/Water/Ropes
Out through the door; nowherebound
Pocketfuls of dreams
Birds are tweeting. Smiling, too. Hiding in the trees
Blood on their beaks. And no one is aware
Of this hostility?

If that compulsive leprosy takes one more bite,
what's then left

Who will take you for a ride, when demonsafaritime
When your eyes are dead, the tears have dried:
Where then to go?
Counting fingers. Counting days. Counting golden kicks
maybe to come, but no day comes for free
I guess they have to deepen that grave.

Maybe the soil on their hands
will make them think some new thoughts?

Birds are tweeting. Such a frightening sound
Staring eyes in unknown faces passing by in numbers, but
where they're all headed I don't know
They might be going somewhere
If that compulsive leprosy takes one more bite,
what's then next

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