sleeping off a dreadful drunk
he must wonder what street he's on
and what blasphemies he tossed at the sky
to blame it for his weaknesses
before he passed out in the sweaty heat
to agitations and dreamless half-consciousness
so my love isn't perfect enough
it'll have to do in spite of what God demands
but a large part of me is grateful
I'm not in his worn shoes
though pity is large also but sadly weak
and I may find that out
one of these lives if I'm not careful...either way
he is suffering...I will suffer...from whatever God demands...
Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.