My soul’s as faded as my shoes as my sighs
slip in fragments,
slivers
down on the ground, among the earth
those that catch them (at times broadside, others like snowflakes)
look up.. think
how lonely! how selfish! how foolish!
what ghoulish heights you pretend to inhabit!
is that might that has set your sights?
wonder why I’m running in circles,
the insubstantial mists
churning
the color out of my habits,
spurning the formulation of any accumulation
of words, ideas, action just
wispful yearning is all
that is apparent.
