nothing

the evidence is clear though the facts remain foggy
you are trapped in a lie
and so am I
like an old Victorian dance
we prance on the political stage
no place for color
no place for brains
we love the design
and are locked on the stage
where are our brains
are we slaves
promoters of oppression
souls stuck in recession
voiceless because you have never spoken
drowning in your own reflection

it is nothing you will be
without
we

My molasses

My molasses is sweet
Thick and dear
Close to my heart
Lost without a cure

My molases is dark
Binding and broken
Blinded a few
With words never spoken

My molasses is blood
Slow and binding
Moves throught my veins
Ufaltered and uncomprimising

My ripple soul

My ripple soul

Kiss me and lose control