there’s something to be said
for barricades & fortresses;
nothing violent penetrates those walls,
though we are locked inside the towers.

we cannot escape, but you cannot enter.

the courtesan longs for the days of innocence;
she sings of the times before we tore the land
apart. she fucks the king in his iron bed,
remembering the days she collected
lavender & poppies from the fields.

there are no more fields
within the stone walls.
but nothing touches her here;

daddy’s arms are not that long. 

6:21 am  •  5 February 2012  •  25 notes