unto us a child is born every 4.2 seconds a baby is daunted pushed into this world and they suffer remember coming here i think of the color of koolaid and people die drinking it all sweet sips over the cliffs popular culture is like that sad most children born today and today and today every 4.2 seconds will follow few will lead strong enslave the weak take directions think i'll slip over to archangel michael's and put my hands in the golden light of his color into reds dip into rusty blues and nightshades what's behind that moon slide my finger across the brushes put them on my tongue drip down my chin weep an exotic dream of otherness
2 comments:
Oh cool, Robin. Wow.
Thank you, Jesse...xox
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