the poets that we are

Meandering drunk
Believing of another time
Living lost
on the edge of wanting more

Clearing my lungs
Inhaling the wine
And sweat of my sisters
the crippled whores

Who speak in tongues
To angels we run from
Forever and a moonless night

Dancing one last dance
Not to be forgiven
But to live another life

Where the desperate world
Will see us
Not as crippled whores

But a masterpiece
That lost its way,
And the poets that we are

Lost

Among self sacrifice
On the edge of finally being free

Dance
 
That one last dance
Only finally to be seen

Buried

In dreams and empty visions
That could only go so far

At Last
 
We finally meet
The true masterpiece
Who looks at us
And only sees
 
The poets that we are