still has me
still prevents me
still wags me
what price freedom
to have nothing
costs everything
its not the injustice
its the sadness that suffocates
as if i need a blanket
or a slice of bread
more that the truth of life itself
i can blow my own nose
wipe away this petulance
and self centered need
to clear the board for love
and expansion
and undisturbed serenity
for which i would pay anything
if only the cashier would come
checkout at the supermarket of desire
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