de dot

[manda]

On a Sunday afternoon
I played my words
around my mind
Could cry a thousand words
from tears
dresssed up like a grasp of hope
alone on my sunday afternoon session
waiting for the words to come to me
come under me
im talking to myself
and singing to a vacant lover
who let go of my heart long ago

He smiles when I talk about
Sunday afternoons.


DESIRE OF THE SAD

i want to f u c k it up
tear a ribbon
share it with the sun


lift the veil
wipe the tear
slap his face as
the buttons pop;
undone

i always f u c k it up



DRUNKEN STARS

i want to get drunk with the stars
put a fire up my skirt
i want to taste death on my tongue
sail to the moon on winged hurt.

i want to rip off my skin
in the face of his soul
see the silence paint a goodbye
let hell and the seas reap its toll

fade away incoherently
tire of the above
spend your night's dream
wrapped in the arms of love.