Old Datura,
Mother of The Ages.
Lovely supple,
soft and pure.
Such beauty.
Is it any wonder you
send them madness
mumbling to darkness?
You've wandered
through the ages of
children and men, the
brave and foolish.
Fairy tale and wonder fill
your satchels.
Your thorns burst full
with secrets untold.
How then does wanting
fear elicit such desire,
a wish for 'morrow's gaze?
I want to hold you,
caress you,
embrace your lovely
wings round shoulders
bare.
Yet I've seen your mind
in the mouths of others.
Such a deep pit you dig.
Your moonlit voice at
once devour and play
sweet this 'morrow's last
tune.
Of this I am sure.
YOU ARE READING
Drugs
PoetryNothin to get in an uproar about.. Just some thoughts for the poisoned.. Weed, speed, smack, and wine..
