Heartstring Lover Chris Anderson
My insanity reads as a desperate rage To the child once encaged by the sun The rising tides, moon, solarifies days mist Faces, question, red string tied laces, wild breaths entangle The myth that we all used to hate; The grand quest of finding truth in us, paced footsteps on a pointless chase, the search of faith or fate or the vase of my heart or the space in between us, the gap that never closed, the clear case of thoughtful crime of translucent skin of mine and yours, friend or foe or slow dancing lovers, always on your tip toes, take or borrow, my ego of a sculptor’s make Low rides and high rise for safe and sound Shake my hands and sow my lungs I have prayed and pondered on lonesome nights and let our fingertips dance away, my insanity is now seen as vain, darling, rage on, rage on, rage on, rage on…
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