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Heather Woods Broderick
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Desert
these days been house ridden
couch sitting in a cold mind
the long silence of the dim type
an old man breathing in the room next to mine
i spoke it with fever
put my foot down against reconcilable blame
still i dream in a desert
of a heart that's been drowning in shame
the truth of the matter
is from the shadows it was staring me in the face
would have lost myself in the desert
of the hearts that lie tarnishing, debased
wits quitting, all the shit's spinning
and fists swinging under wooled eyes
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a tall shadow of the blind type
the fold or the forfeit
all past times of mine
you heard it through the ether
a still riding, melancholic hue
you dreamt in light empyreal
of my heart, would be coming home to you
until you face the matter
from the shadows had been staring us in the face
you will sleep in a desert
and your heart will lie honorably disgraced
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