spend a life
gathering things
putting them in
imaginary boxes
possessions
collecting
only to leave
behind
want to find
the meaning
behind
not so sure
if he belongs
of course he
has things too
he is a
collector of sorts
but would leave
it all behind
for the freedom
to roam
he has got to
play the game
until he
figures out how to break
the chains
amused by the meeting
of strangers
swept off feet
tired of
walking in circles
and the sun
shine warms
the corner of
the room where
he sits
contemplating
what he knows about
future events
foolish
conversation
no longer
wanting to deal the cards
laid to rest
years ago
or months he
doesn’t gamble
with that shit
anymore
found himself
standing alone
staring at the
moon
shooting star
and a random meeting
two familiar
souls
life breathing
into spent lungs
waiting
stretching and catching himself
staring into
eyes in the sky
generating some
sort of strength
from within to
swallow
all the tired
words
and play eye
some music
irie eyes and
music lifting him above
and away from
the trivial pursuit
of whatever is
deemed fun this week
the sun has set
and he is a
would be drunk anyway
no actual
purpose or maybe
he is lying
again
who’s to say
maybe he
is famous by
now
he is in his
mind anyway…
No comments:
Post a Comment