urn

first it’s just a whisper

a scratching at your ear

then a quiet rumble

traveller drawing near

something asks for you

if you wouldn’t mind

things you’ve spent are due

we’re trying to be kind

nothing is so lonely

lick the icy shiver

now you understand

there’s nothing in

the mirror

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s