a special someone
5
10
15
20
25
30
you deal your mind in
the loss and the loss and the loss
and the lossless infrequent
yet all you know of is luck
(you lucky bastard)
all you do is agree and nod
your eardrums receiving steady beats
not slow or driving, and and and
why is your voice so quiet and
distrusting, misaligned and judging
your hands, hard rattle, worn on
so efficient and efficient and efficient
working down and up and along around
without a beat of hesitation
what are
the eyes the eyes the eyes
peering before me with such surprise?
they are so old and weary
having forgotten how dreary
the monotony of life is, but only
seeming to cling onto the rainy days
of polishing stones to sandy ends -
bleak and steeled together by the cold
of frozen winter nights alone
yet never unsatisfying
questioning the need for sleep
and the desire for freedom
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