Moods

Had a thought
But never bothered
To unleash the
Madness on her
Would she leave or
Bleed me sober
Would it be
The debt I've owed her
That'd become a
Conscious cloaking
For the melancholy moaning
Or her timely
Grin bestowing
On my chemical disowning
Prisoner impassioned rapture
Wouldn't have or
Have to have her
Beg and plead
Disaster comforts
When the nature of the beast
Comes to terms with its disease.

©Copyright 2005 Jason J. Loya