Archive
11/09/09 - (2)
Freed
Seated on this restaurant's outdoor patio, by myself, I say grace, over my Spartan supper, For the abundance of freedom that's possessed my spirit,
Brought me such an uncommon plenitude of happiness, Since my escape from the rancid, rat-infested cell, In the depths of desperation's debtors' prison,
Where existence was a cruel delusion, a sadistic liability, And the promise of healing, hope, and love Was nothing less than the progress of death in life.
11/09/09 - (2)
|
|||
|
|||
