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Storm Belly Road
The night sky is alight, with beautiful fires
At half-past midnight
The roaring met with bright, clinging to the thunder
Like husbands with their wives, loving one another
A clumsy heap of writhe and wrath, moving to the east
Only to evaporate beneath the summer heat
To be at peace with air so clouded
Wrests within a mind, without clear sense of why
Why should he bother?
Lo the bourbon highway, paved in streaks of green
Rambling mass of shimmer
Rambling mass of sheen
Case cascade our jilted brother, meek in times of need
Who says the word comprised of pink
And chokes upon the taste
In his nearest furthest reach, he draws upon the soft
Something caught, something simple
That now relies on him
And in this darkest, dampest set
Where black is king and moons are kept
He's struck by thoughts of truth and haste
And struggles to remember them.
