Counting the minutes and the seconds
I wonder where to go from here.
I could end up dead on this lonely road.
The consolation of a prize not worth winning.
I imagine hazy visions of my hazy future.
I can't bear to look around.
So I watch my feet tread slowly
over paths of calculated repose.
Weighed down by the sparks of my own fire
my words return to me untouched.
Shadowy sentinels stand by to mute
the dry crackling of my heartbeat.
Swarming doubts sting and steal.
I long for a finale to this empty sound.
Pounding my hope against dead ends
I am led to a place I cannot tell.
5 comments:
If you're ever looking for a place to go, follow I-15 S to my house. I have a cinnamon roll waiting for you.
You missed your calling....I'd say you're a poet. Don't think of things as not going anywhere just be content to be walking on the path less traveled by.
Oh man...you soooo shouldn't have posted this. Now everyone thinks you're all deep and disturbed.
I'm glad you said something, can I borrow your black lipstick?
i kinda loved it
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