andreanum & co

This will be brief as the sounds on my tongue, the words, the pieces of song

Yet unspoken, like the letters unbroken, like the pictures that burned

Smoke and grief, pain and shudder, then the night that would give

No relief. This will be hard as the scream on my tongue, like the taste of the blood of a Lord

That stayed cold. No salvation, and we’re all caught in this awe and divine admiration for a fraud

Or at least so I’m told. But I swear this brief moment will come out just as fair like the laws of reaction that is inversely linked to a sort of

Attraction for the new, for the old. What is there, in that place, in that web called emotion is the soul that

I spate after coughing up pieces of a meaty devotion to life. Yes, my life will be

Brief as the sounds on my tongue, like the words and the pieces of song

Yet unsung and unspoken, like the letters unbroken, like the pictures that burned

Smoke and grief, pain and shudder.

G.