Friday, July 16, 2010

You Called It Love, I Called It A Massacre

True love made trash

All those pretty and useless words

Their future flows as a river of failure

Man made

They hope for the calm that only comes

After the violence

After the separation

On Sunday morning I heard your voice singing from prison

Bending blue shadows

But none of this matters now

Face down at the bottom of the sea

In endless protest to you absence