PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

All I hear is hammers, nails

Strings from such an interface

Construction of the doorway

As I tear apart my transport.

And all I feel is anger

Directed to my core

At my rampant lacking

And at my loss of sight.

A wall of shining, cleansing white

That gathers dust to my left

Sans reflection, but it watches

While I steal a frequency.

And to this screen I speak,

Of all these senseless woes

While I'm losing money

Going sort of numb.

The pains of being pure of mind

Have faded since I've turned so sour

All good is gone, I devour

The dark that tends to cloud.

Fortune's glitter, passion's stain

The evening windows of a passing train

The feel of travel, the love of life

Things that I can't understand.

But now there is anger,

And lust for the fight

Not much else,

Not much to say.

So I try to purge,

In such ways I used to

And it isn't working,

And I'm not surprised.