To whom it may concern
God pointed forefinger straight at me
Go boy thou hence
Die for man
Go groan
Got moan
Go roll your bones alone
Wrapped up in the numbers of it all
That pulls and drulls apart
Not separate
From this
Gone from that
I am not him nor her
Coming in for temporary aid
Times of Pax Romana
Keep these tragic hands
Docile and soft
To write of tales of timid woe
None existent love
Sitting on the road
Swallowed up in the moon and the stars
Whose twinkling glean yearn for my undivided attention
Departed to see you soon
Goodbye to the road
Yours truly and mad
No comments:
Post a Comment