Friday, October 13, 2017

The End Of Time Bar - A Poem...

I’m coming down to the end of time bar

To shout out a lesson to anyone who’ll hear

And drown in the smallest glass I can find

My reflection giving me the finger of fate

But maybe I can’t get my legs to work

And maybe I can’t get my car to start

And maybe I can’t get my door knob to turn

The way it needs to turn so I can get away from it

The cold winter air like daggers on my skin

My eyes freeze over like they do

So I shuffle with my arms outstretched

Searching blind for a solid thing to take me to you

Headlights firing out their beams like bullet guns

Damage us in ways we’re never sure

But maybe it’s the sickness lying waiting for a chance

Survival of the miniscule un-tellers of the tales

I see the blurred out forms that huddle in the dark

They’re sharing warmth and odorous experiences now

Of being told they can’t be here or there or anywhere

Because they lost the fight or became unwilling

Somewhere between propulsion and direction

I discover a view of things previously unseen

Not meant for human eyes and this I have not ruined

As humanity was never my strong suit anyhow

When I was small I’d pretend to sleep wherever I was sat

In hopes that Dad would carry me to bed and kiss my eyes

A memory that comes as I am loaded in the back

Was warmer then than I am warm today... much more to warm

And I don’t think the end is near at least from the events of today

But maybe I’m illiterate to writing on the wall

And grasping always grasping with a hopefulness and grace

That the things that were will come again just better in the now

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