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When you have a clock in your hand, Come even if it is lost in the sand; Just come when you find time Or no time at all, A diary on the table awaits in the hall. At the sharp edge of the blade – Like the eyelids blink without fear And the river flows with sanguine tears. Come like the force comes in hands, A Heart has bled, yet pounds and stands. Come like the blood rages through veins, Blind, weary eyes still yearn for the Light to rain.
As a journalist, you can create a free Muck Rack account to customize your profile, list your contact preferences, and upload a portfolio of your best work.
