Numbered.

Like the razor-edged bite of barbed wire,

a brander freshly pulled from a bright bonfire,

a kind of rhythm that does little to inspire,

this heart’s beat to slow it’s lethal rapid-fire;

Like a carrot stick that snaps in half,

an old and dog-eared photograph,

a forgotten joke and forgotten laugh,

a wall built up with a million death masks;

Like an eternity and how it cruelly passes,

killing me slowly as it rolls like molasses,

the bee that stings in the sweetest of grasses,

the ancient tire swing in the pine tree branches;

Like the moment Father Time finally catches up,

when you finally see the empty bottom of your cup,

when everything you’ll ever be is just beyond your touch,

no need to take a number when it’s yours that has come up.

8 thoughts on “Numbered.”

Enter your comment here...

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

Email (required) (Address never made public)

Name (required)

Website

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. ( Log Out / Change )

You are commenting using your Google account. ( Log Out / Change )

You are commenting using your Twitter account. ( Log Out / Change )

You are commenting using your Facebook account. ( Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s