Doing nothing
Feeling nothing
bereft of maudlin curmudgeon
What is this that stands before me?
Just another canted doorway
Sighing, Perplexed and vexed
I snidely snorted
"Fuck you guys, my path is North-ways"
I had an idea
Then I lost it
Scurried off
Like lambent roaches
Spangled fears
Reluctant cheers
We've lived our lives
Counting drear
Shut up
Stop making excuses
Shut up, you
What excuses?
The ones that blind us
Like white-noise
Lulling us to sleep
Life un-enjoyed
But we're too busy
With the hurry
Hustle, bustle
Scribble, scrabble
Skitter, fritter
We forget
That blissful winter
We once enjoyed
When us childer
And un-employed
Thusly then
And only then
When the snow fell upon my up-turned face
I knew my path
And destiny
This is Hell
Don't follow me
No comments:
Post a Comment