PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I see that the same horizons are hung, loitering
in the skyward space I'd reserved for my daydreaming.
Seeking to escape them, I can only draw inward
for a time, until the exterior bleeds and drips
into what little spare memory I had possessed.
So I'll move on aware. Whence my shades were drawn so tight,
I took inventory of what was worthy in me,
and came to bask in the day shameful with empty hands.
Smoke clung and tinged, but I could not lay a finger on
its comforts – it only hung against me like a ghost,
clamoring and filling me with soft noise and prattle
whilst shielding my eyes from vices externally sound,
yet morally unbound

and loose, creating their joys.
Sporting this personal escort crafted from the smog,
I belched forth a criterion list and waited for
responses all unwanted, unheeded or unknown,
and wallowed in the disappointment I knew would come.
Growing quieter now, milder in my pursuit
of concepts once abstract, now within the realm of myth;
slow is the crawl I can inhabit while I mutter
to myself about the bull shit; the pointlessness in
every conceivable end we may arrive at
and shatter by means of all that we wished to perceive.
In this, my life-spanning chase for a well-due escape,
there is only a desperate need to be wanted.