Against The Grain

Sand falls, and each rough grain doth kiss her face;

Her tears are desert's dunes and need no flood.

Each pore, each pour, the maiden doth embrace.

"Come in, come in, my dears, and choke on blood,

As kitty litter to a vomit pool,

And fill my meaty, sucking socks with rocks.

Let nothing new sprout up; it is too cruel.

Let nothing grow or root; each newbie mocks."

-

But as the trees within balloons did die,

A live sprang from the bottom of a well

And washed upon thy dirty face, so dry.

They watered barren scope as each drop fell.

If ye think time shall quell the memory,

Just look into mine eyes and then you'll see.