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FIRE FOR A DRY MOUTH
I stray the dunes of Desert beneath a sun of curse,
A walk of remorse that stumbles at each foothold.
The moisture of my brows sends salt into my eyes to burn me for all of my struggles.
Can I hope for this prize? A promise so devious
Can I hope for this prize? A promise so devious
Am I really the one to blame the land for being so mischievous?
Childlike sand, yet its fervent Lie is so ancient I find myself ambling among it’s ruins.
I stop to dig my knees into its soft skin where I wait with my back bent and my mouth open for the clouds to arrive.
My fragile structure collapses from so long upholding my desperation.
Laid broken along the ground I fight to get a glimpse of the sky before I breathe my last.
Hindsight floods in to give birth to perfect vision.
