a feeling like Medea
it's so strange that i think of you now,
walking down some unknown street.
but then again it's not so rare
that i think of aching things.
it's like i told you
i hear the talk,
talk of a savior
words of a temple in the holy land
but well, it's nothing but lies
lies and whores and
Madame de Pompadour in nothing but a corset.
she was always my favorite.
a feeling like Medea washes over me,
as i stare into the clear winter sky.