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Woe pt V: Epiffany
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Extended Poetry Oh, how the world tis a suction cup
As I boldly graze the places needing of my graze
As bravely as no crumbling man before
And how strange I seem a stranger yet
Who grazes cross my dream-drenched eye
Without a care for me
Nor desires in his deep grey heart
I don't even notice me
A stranger as I strangely complicate
And as the boiling kettle angers
Hisses steam forth his nose
Tea is brewed waiting to calm
I remove my heavy back
From the heaving burner bright
Oh, woe the river flows
Through every little vein
Labrynthed roun my tired bones
Marrow stirring burner bright
Hidden neath my pulsing skin
Maybe all but wakes and stretches now
And all is clean that once was blurred
Across deserts and oceans
For the swooning swan to graze so sugar sweet
New soil fresh and ripe
Waiting to bear another harvest
Oh, woe the river ever grazes ever flows
And beyond horizons yet again
