Author Information
Dead Weight In Recoil
Folder:
2019 I hate who I am
but I love what I could be
Pain and joy coincide
steering clear of
long bonds
and aging conflicts alike,
driving wildly free
Feeling the life I could've built by
deeply hugging a telephone screen
on a hermit's couch
in anguished mental attire
entirely unseen I scream
Look at me!
Mr. Silver (at best) Trophy!
..more like Mr. Atrophy
obeying your indifferent signs
you post along the street
in daylight
knowing I'm a man of the night
so you know we'll never reconvene
or even meet
haphazardly
so I step away
'by choice'
then decay
in the soil below your feet
I'm dead weight
in recoil
as you leave
U R Not Dead Weight
U R A poet...well maybe half dead weight, but that is not my point... Peace and Happy Holidays from one quarter almost dead weight to another. :D
❤ thank you, take care
❤ thank you, take care
Hearts In The Mail
.
The season is upon the land
of the freedom seeking, there
are lists to finalize that say
do me now.
.
A heart appears in the mail
and it is not even St. Valentine's
Day.
.
Snow is expected to see
us soon, plows to move great
weights of frozen clouds. Yet,
hearts melt snow and give
a moment meaning when it
is received from the void
called poet.
.
allets
12-08-19
826a
.
This is beautiful, by the
This is beautiful, by the way! Thank you so much