Tuesday, January 30, 2018


the hole grows bigger every day
while we feed it with neglect and apathy
the road grows narrow with the junk we collect
while the mountains run towards us at a snail's pace

the feet gather wounds that scar and scab
while the surface turns hard as the ground
the taste in your mouth is bitter as defeat
while you chew through the boulder you roll up and up

the dreams come and they're same as the night before
while you sink in the pseudo-comfort of familiarity
the life with eyes wide open is a wound that throbs
with the need that craves curiosity

the lock is on the door and it has no key
while blood seeps through the wood like tears of a dead tree
chew chew and chew some more on the mud of life
while the froth drips like poison from your lips

The four parts of this poem are all derived from my daily life, so yeah, you can say things are going great!

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