Words kill.
They slash and cut and destroy
Sensations.
In the ever elusive attempt
To describe a
Thought or
Feeling
The snake-like demons dart away
Contributing only empty air
And a page full of
Dark
Black
Smudges
Glowering hatefully.
Diminutive blades decapitate
Impressions;
Hate and Spite
Seem so harmless
Dumbly lying on a slice of tree.
- April 6, 1992.
Posted by acr at December 26, 2003 07:00 PM | TrackBack