The sanctified burial ground expresses miles of unrestraint, a death-walk to the clouds, a beautiful land to be consumed by my feet. Death, guide me through to where no people reside
The past walks among us, Lives our life for us, Betrays the present, Like nobles the peasant, And strikes the day down blind. (The grind Of past wretchedness:
A log cabin in the Amazon tells its tale of unfortunate love while they, standing before it, look on unsympathetically. The sky is crushing them and they will never know it.
You stop me from being Blind to the world, unseeing, And all my hate consorts with your being, And anger sparks, me bereft of seeing An ill consumed wind between us,