uttering goodbye, not a word spoken. passing like arthritic memories into an impassive night. dull ache, throbbing in the tender bones of a lonely soul. a quiet agony, written on a pale face wracked with demons. each reflection given a name and lodging. a heart divided, unable to stand. torn, stolen by the wind.
Tag: Free Verse
Desert Plum
Drop it all leaving it behind in the back of my mind racing towards the unseen edge of an endless road to possibility the spirit of america calling to me – it’s rasping rotting in the dry heat of a setting southwestern sun – I’ve never taken drugs but I want to watch the world…