What will is this?
To bury me in the likes?
I truly skip the details
To deny these trails I walk.
I am tired and this
Trail has grown cold.
Perhaps my "sierra madre"
Is coal for the fool.
The water wears me raw
But refreshes in sweet pain
As it tears the tears from
My cleaved sour soul
What makes it so so...so?
You and yours all rattled?
I wouldn't have to think….know.
Saddled with illusionary horses?
What a time to be myself,
I could have been anything.
A mountain or a pebble,
Even your rainstorms
