I E D
Tell me a story.
Lying dead
on the two lane highway,
cluttering the desert,
in the rare rainfall.
What were you screaming
to the angels?
What were you waiting for?
And who was it dared
to strike the light
from your sonorous eyes?
Do you dream me finding
you just staring,
relaxed on the steaming pavement.
Sand in your pockets.
Sand in your blood
that ripples
with the gusting wind.
Stand up and follow me brother.
Walk down the road in my head
and die each new day
that I shall live.
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