July 6 by The Running Son
And what i really want to say:
is there anything wrong with me?
Will my key fit heaven?
Because by all earth logic
I don’t know.
I have grown into some, thing.
Keyed, and re-keyed life without thinking
and one that began godly
became stretched bone
colder tones played from keyed instruments
stashed away, hid from
heaven (and you) and
saving me having to tool excuses
in the face of Gods–clever all–
to mans keyhole abuses.
by Jim Aldrich
.namaste. -• ö.tH(ink)Mÿstiç •- .namaste.