Who’s watching is making a different noise?
And His fear are the hands
You don’t want to fall into.
They are the living kind,
The terrifying kind of alive.
I am the fear of that body on the inside,
And what it means to be here forever.
Don’t cast me out to the gnashing,
Where regret has its circling,
Please keep Virgil next to me,
To show me the circles that wait
For me.
I am Dante on the rock,
I am Dante in the peak
Cause even he can’t outrun the
Storm to come?
I was kissing your steps
And licking your wounds,
I was praying for a monsoon
Cause who doesn’t love a
Good storm–
THE RUCKUS JOURNAL 