Living in the present past
the old
the dusty
the plain
the last
but oh
oh the last
when music fills your ears and you remember
You Remember
you remember
all the listless days
in your cell
where you painted heaven on the walls

fall away to old begins
leaving highs and winning sins
paying homage
living in homage
smelling homage
YOU
ARE
THERE

© 2015 | More Poetry by Toria Saint James