a salad of sayings

a medley of words





Lord, what must i do





for my voice to be heard?

a mixture of riddles

an infusion of terms





i want Something left





when i meet hungry worms

i'll shake their appendage

bid How do you do





but in the end





It is That






for i've left






Words for you


the product of damage

the achievement of strength



my words scar this paper



through moments of length

i cannot print my Thoughts


only Pathos in strings

chemical releases



who give our Songs wings







these syllables hold message





my words bear a code





encrypted in etchings






lost down a side road





the worms and i crow


at the idea of reverse

but the world spins on forward




for Better









or Worse