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Journal Turmoil pt II: The Age of Bones
Folder:
Extended Poetry Alas, another book
Worn to the bone
Like a weary stomach
Consuming time
Capturing my thoughts
Like a high tide captures
The fingertips of the shores
Tucked in and done
Like your children at night
Another book to feed the shelf
To stuff it down
A slow-functioning drain pipe
How many more, alas,
To fill a shelf
When all they do is capture dust
Within the pinch of fingers
Forgotten as the words carved out like stone
On every unnoticed page
Worn to the bone
Worn to the crease
Worn out and tired
Of consuming so much ink
