beneficience
2005-07-21 3:44 p.m.
bless your feet. i have been crawling around your ankles for a good century, humbly waiting for you to take noticeand call me ruth
say to the people - my mother has no help in life.
and then come over.
there is no eloquence here, only soft and salty eyes licking at their covers, carressing their interminable needs, taking shape in their sweet prisons
and how daintily yours laid themselves to sleep.
how many words you whisper when you dream!
we are well-spaced and easily suitied, manufactured in our fit, and i might slip my tongue long enough to say that all things are purposed
whole-heartedly, and with the full force of a convict
come to relinquishing his criminal acts and replacing them with hymns.
give me the oppurtunity to tell them of your praises, of your goodwill, of your graces, and i will be happy, found in my new salvation
strange how these ships failed to sail once we had availed ourselves of them, and waited instead
for our wavering hands and quaking limbs, ready, finally, to give up, to get down, to give in.