White figures shooting up,
Into the black sky,
Columns of blue smoke rise from the hills,
Then fall to oblivion.
I'm more than aware,
That I'm threatened by your invasion,
What has been done.
Night comes cold and quiet,
To end a gray, dark day,
A fine mist blurs the horizon into obscurity.
I'm incessantly on the move,
Crawling on broken glass around you,
What has been done.
I've been ferocious and restless,
Blue with cold,
Could I go back and undo it,
Too late now,
Stretching out so gray and dreary.
Looking up from under blue gray ice,
In the core of a lemon rift,
Turning cold to the bone,
No trickle of warmth to be found here.
I've been ferocious and restless,
Run at me,
Could I go back and undo it,
Too late now.
YOU ARE READING
Crackle
PoetryPossibly the darkest collection of songs that I've written, to date. Also, that's my own artwork on the cover. Published under my Wandering Faith moniker.
