Monday, December 8, 2008

Backslide

Warm socks on freezing feet.
Trying not to think about a tree.
With roots rooted so deep
In the ground, strangling me.

His eyes like ice
Gray the color of his heart
With teeth he bites
Flesh with words so harsh

Dear God, if you can hear me,
Make the screaming stop.
Dear God, if you are real,
Is this all you've got?
Make the screaming stop.

1 comment:

Helen said...

Amazing, but you didn't need me to tell you that. You're brilliant. I love you.

-Helen