take my hand and climb with me…

eighty four degrees: ‘the only thing I know to do…’

Girl In The War ~ Josh Ritter

eighty four

Somewhere. In the middle, of nowhere. Dry mecca, of crushed glass. And concrete. World created, of wire and dust. Where you might, belong. In a county, cleaved. You glued, together. Art, an outsider.  Strange suns, a lion’s den. And so many, owls. With eerie, blind bottle eyes. Unblinking. I still carry, the heart. Barbed wires, rusted through. And these, two. Memento, mori. You haunt me, Helen. With your countless, sad seeking I’s.


Turn up the music and pray that she makes it through…

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This entry was posted on December 23, 2012 by in Summer and tagged , , , , , , .


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