the moron…

20May05

The clogging ventricles
pant for something fresh
A gasping choke
searching for a breath

Fatigue and immobile
a heart heavy
and gaining weight.
As the past narrates itself
hasty and harsh
in a drowsy sermon.
Perplexed thoughts
perplexingly simple
and profoundly unkind.
Spilt words
forgotten for long
dance in the dim eye.
Flawed deeds
reflecting over
and relentlessly niggling.

Sleep my child
your meaning is stolen
Sleep my child
your self is broken
Sleep my child
your gains are lost
Sleep my child
your joy is buried
Sleep my child
sleep is all you have

The moon sank
as the long drama
of their interwoven lives
played to its inevitable conclusion.

To be continued…

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