hard to say

right lung

left lung

hard to say

day

to

day

life enters

easiest way

through loose holes

thought plugged.

 

if there were water

i'd be

sinking

none found

shrinking

in life

before coffin or ground

before my own mistakes

are given excuse

of which

i

have none

to say.

 

for each day

is a heart beat

of a life ticking away

 

and a monster such as i

should be left in a cave

where your

torch of articifical sun

bears no more meaning

than a white crayon

on a portrait of a winter's day.

 

Reviews

[.]

~ an amazingly beautiful piece of poetry, monsieur... and this image...

"where your
torch of artificial sun
bears no more meaning
than a white crayon
on a portrait of a winter's day"

~ is me... i see all of my insignificance in it... thank you for this post and particularly this image... 'tis my identity... it's sad, but at least i know and am not deluded like i used to be...