Tuesday, April 05, 2011

THE PLACE WHERE DEVILS GO.

Where do you blow the indigo
Its mixed with blue grey hues
Darker across a tattered fold
The aged nature is true.

When a demon smiles up at me
From the bottom of the lagoon
I breathe in a quiet manner
Beautiful silence erupts in bloom.

Stirred in cotton bounty
And the balls the reapers sew
Cast their affection below me
To the place that Devils know.