The Trails of Passion As anger boils the blood of placcid flesh, And tears erupt to burn a solemn cheek, One's heart corrodes submissive to loves passion, Tendons tear; sinews strain - our minds and souls feel weak. In the wake of true destruction thoughts are many, And changes in the mind begin to flare, The effort of depression bends one's sanity, And all those close seem somewhat distant - Nor do they seem to care. take heed of my new madness as it blossoms; Find shelter in your love and not your hate; Elude your own true feelings and you'll wallow - Your mind shall simply fail you, And your heart incinerate. May something or other, 1977 |