April 09, 2009


You turned and walked away from the muddy pond leaving behind what was dirty.
You’ll have to wash your hands a few times more, make sure that they aren’t dirty.

Now you’ve gotten it out of you; drained the sore as you’ve been shown.
It breaks you’re spirit for a time. And for a time you are no longer dirty.

Ashes to ashes, mud to mud. You or her; you had to save yourself .No one defended you. It was her fault; she skipped in such a girlish way. It made you feel dirty

Fold into the 10th dimension, years before a boy is used in such distorted ways,
return and be a different man, leading a girl safely home, shielding her from anything dirty.

Dreams like this, stop with you, as light in a black hole or love in a sociopath.
You buy some candy, lose your dog, take all things sweet and try to make them dirty.

You thought to cleanse filth by sacrificing this tiny unscathed beauty.
Your soul has fled and will not return. You are entirely dark; forever filthy-dirty.

We’re blessed by angels who are unknowing of the existence of such vile beasts. Like the thing that made you dark, beyond all sense of dirty.

Minor angels rise to divinity, to exceed our wanting grasp. They comfort us with profound and graceful wings these beings spared this world, who dwell forever untouched, beyond the realm and awareness of a death which longs to make them, like you, dirty.