COME LIFT MY TONGUE...

Day in and day out I bang on the empty dreams of my silent path. It has been a decade since I last drank a drop and now every movement, every posture of the wind cries the cry of a flock of crows. Nonchalant madness of my vision still speaks somewhere near your langue. My parole is starving to death, digging its own grave. The silent road once again wakes up in mid day to embrace me with its green and white and grey shoulder. Distant are the lines of my limitation for I have never said I am not omnipresent. The hollow sky longs hard to accumulate the scattered red clouds. It has been a decade since I drank a drop. Have I ever invited you to view my dreams? Witness is sweeping the justice home. They wake all my moments to the flood and Noah’s Arch has no seed of my bearing. Grey leaves percolating drop after drop singing the mournings. Another day will be hanged today in the distance my soul. Come lift my tongue and gauge the whole of all allness. It has been a decade since I drank a drop. Come lift my tongue.

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