somatic is a frail wind

somatic is a frail wind
dying for no reason
rolling like a dead cat
trespassing constantly
bleating like moon sheep
a Sunday above the church

derelict is in fashion
roaming through the rubble
for a glimpse of down
never catching up
to the winding tales
where mercury is still down

imbibed by the night
strolled into slow motion
why finds himself in disarray
feeding old mistakes
with time he does not have
and his own silly decay



Poetry by Bob
Read 559 times
Written on 2017-06-01 at 07:06

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