You whoever heard this wish,
Grant it.
Grant it as blessing of my helpless agony
Or on the cost of my soul.
I no longer differentiate you angel who heard and left
Or the devil who laughed and gave.
Whoever you are, you heard my soul breaking nights that flew by.
I there kneel down, or I stand to yell
Listen however you can hear.
You whoever spelled the words for this story,
You know how you stop this fire
Only by the wind of February.
By texture of that skin
That taste of tied soul; it's universal.
I'll be so impatient,yet will I burn for eternity till I grab the hands that belongs inside my ribs.
-I don't think I'll ever stop burning till it ain't you the rain.
YOU ARE READING
Blue Psychedelics
PoetryI think I wasn't just tripping, The psychedelics that fed me Got a lover out of the universe.
