sábado, 28 de enero de 2012

I wish I was an elephant

in the stomach of a snake

I wish I was a book

forgotten in a library

I wish I was your fingers

when you do that in your bed

I wish I was the twenty-ninth

of the cold February

And on that fateful day

I’ll be walking to my grave

I'll dig a hole in the dirt

I'll open my coffin of ivory

and count the days remaining

for my brain and soul to rot

God I wish I was a shadow

I wish I wasn’t at all.