There’s so much going on
but not enough to tell.
Like a snowflake fallen
into a dark wishing well.
The light that sneaks through the cracks in the fence
only reassures this loneliness and my lack of common sense.
From penny to pound and down to the last pence.
We’re all just broken glass grounded into cement.
In a city street or isolated providence.
Everywhere there’s this emptiness, immense.
Like the shallow girl who took my golden V.
She sits and waits for attention like Lazarus in his tree.
Yet, I’m the one wondering around for such lust.
My emptiness is pounding against thin rust.
If you beg to change a line or mangle with my cross.
Don’t forget I’m up against, angled and lost.
– For the person who takes time to read this madness.
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“Like the shallow girl who took my golden V.” What a great line.