Ambivalent Paper White


Leaves of blood

The wind blows cold

The dance begins

The birds fly low

Alight on a wire

Take a look around

Then dart away

Shit falls to the ground

And the wind blows cold

Your restlessness grows

There are things you knew

And things yet to know

That you already knew

But forgot somehow

Now they surface like bubbles

Beneath your speeding bow

And each crashing wave

That pounds the shore

Erodes with each refrain

Yet you scream for more

Now what’s left to do?

Well, who’s left to say?


An ambivalent paper white

Was the sky that day.