Creep

There is no sense of God to be found on my knees

Where the heart and the heat, scorching inside of that needs

I'm a creep, I plead for misdeed

The bug smells the greatest from afar

Could I only have it's sense

I would feel that wings are shining

Under her shell

And I'd take the way to the far

Strawberry bush

And then

I am dropping into your blossoms

Rotting to a swamp

It's late

It's late, I'm going forward

Going backward

Going that constant legs

No shiver haunts him

No color blinds him

And nothing hurts