Monday, February 19, 2007

It does creep

Sizzla singing, disk of light on the ground, running to the cerimony, me and my sister, to the hills of lions, and stones, out of the traffic; it all make sense, enslaving master, your eyes are filling the sky and i fill them with compasion that'll never dry; understanding creeps in the darkness, of dreams, awake in the jungle spirits without face protecting their territories with screams, chaikosvki, down the steps, makes me forget; i found a seed of annihilation in my pockets, it grows lianas to the sky, umbarable cold.


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