Running on Fumes

The price of anything is the amount of life you exchange for it. - Thoreau

Life was closing in on him like a vice.

The prognosis not very nice.

So he turned his eyes to the sky.

Not able to bare another lie.

Stuffing his remaining faith into a backpack, he stepped into destiny's frightening void.

Weighed down heavily by the past.

Remnants of his love trampled underfoot in life's dirt.

Embarking on an elusive journey for truth and meaning.

He would have to get out of the city.

To avoid the loathing and self-pity,

Passing by outcasts on the fringe drinking nips in the park.

Siting around doing nothing, waiting for the comfort of the dark.

Yet more people who ask you how you are and don't wait for an answer.

Mumbling memory's curses under his breath.

Pausing at each block to reflect on the good times' wilted blooms.

It wasn't going to be easy for he was ...

... running on fumes ...

Author's Note

“Not until we are lost do we begin to understand ourselves.” - Thoreau

Reviews

[barleygirl]

I really love the word tapestry you created here. I love that your writing is straightforward & truthful, without as much emphasis on word crafting. This comes across as more heartfelt & also heartwrenching, more than some of your pieces do. This style of writing draws the reader into your storytelling more, not so much sitting on the sidelines like an observer, checking how you startle us with word magic. I love both styles from you . . . and this is a great way to switch it up (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[Pete]

you have a keen eye for detail and i so value your reviews not to mention friendship. you actually partly inspired this. thank you Margie... :)

[barleygirl]

This is a killer line, well-crafted & thought-provoking:
"Stuffing his remaining faith into a backpack, he stepped into destiny's frightening void"