I am a sensitive fool
filter far removed
from my mouth
and my heart
I stand on the street
listening to the songs
of the lost and the broken
coins fall from my hand
as I chase that magic moment of poetry
in motion
Its the source that I want
what we all want
tortured and broken
lost in the sands of time
searching for eachother
taking each others hands
like the quicksand
we all feared
swallowing us
you were there
reaching for me always
I saw you this time.
Maybe chemistry
has a strange
and foreboding way
of changing our ways
making us see
with the salt and sand rising
covering us
inch by inch
forging us into sand
making us melt
time and time again
here we are
waiting for eachother
