Thirst - 6/27/2011
I hungerfor the noise
and thirst
for the burn
running down
my throat
and warming me
since I've grown
so cold
when all is still
and sleep has settled
all around.
I want nothing more
then to be numb;
made of something
that isn't
flesh,
bone,
and blood.
Remake
my heart
out of steel,
diamonds,
something,
anything,
that won't break
when it hits the floor.