Rantings and Ravings

Our whirlpool thoughts wash waters grey and false and thoughtless. Smoke rings skate the night sky, blown from deep in our hearts. We will not back down, nor scream, cry “Yield!” With rope ladder veins and coppery breath we will burn and seethe. Until the scars of our skin and the bruises on our necks tout “We have known love, in all it’s dirty glory.”