. The Poet's Beat .

. The Poet's Beat .
"A working class citizen is apt to see this country for what it's worth... A miasma of interlocking variations on differing demographics and geographies unlike any other inhabited space in the world. The American Dream. The rolling footloose hills and the upstanding Apache badlands where criminals cut bread with priests and the children of Hollywood. I am no different. Yet I am still brazen enough to think that the world is a playground built by the rugged hands of a hard-working man in order that my fantasies be materialized." -- P.P. Vonnersdale

Monday, February 25, 2013

To Die With You

I want to die with you
Ride like fire into burning clouds and
     crash with you
Strapped to an engine
Police cars screaming
We’ll hold each other and fade away
     into the night
Tops of old tress marked
     by the absence of stars
Into that black hole we’ll fly together
Always chasing the headlight
Shadows and gravel
A fresh cover of recently fallen rain
Your breath on my neck
Falling sideways into the forest
Leaping with you into the abyss
     of our insane future
Broken glass
Flashing lights
And the emptiness of love


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