These Words I Write Sock

The webs of time Can't-span this loneliness I feel in my heart In this emptiness -of my mind Each night it grows dark. The webs of time Can't-cocoon this feeling When pillow talk Is-no-longer soothing It's time to clear my mind And just-start walking. What use are velvet wings If, like a bat, the night clings What use is a bowl of flowers? When it's over. Cut my wrists Drink till I wake up sober Love is all about being A tin soldier. Oh, all those old fairy tales Written in another epoch These words I write sock. Haven't longer got a heart Haven't longer got sails Like Anne Berlin, I-too-depart Wounded, word silent Behead, bleeding pageant.