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Master
Shutters broken, rain seeping, running red the lust invigorates my mouth.
Painful drumbles that shake my world I couldn’t move.
Hand to the sky only rejection touches these withered fingers.
Given chance hope calls unto yesterday when born alive meant nothing. Sitting by side, wagging tail a whimper echos my needs.
Why never did I listen to reality, encased, embossed by rhythm and fire, little walkman drop.
Bitter, sour apples brink death’s door.
Tired of restlessness just like the ambulance my master said good night.
