Death hung in the air
that infernal year
like a low-lying fog.
*
By the time I stumbled
into a clearing
I was heading the wrong way,
*
unable to find my direction.
Unsuspecting others were
swallowed whole by the mists,
*
nevermore to be seen.
As unclear as it was then,
this remains certain:
*
neither they, nor I,
will ever be able
to retrace our steps again.
About the Creator
Randy Baker
Poet, author, essayist.
My Vocal "Top Stories":
* The Breakers Motel * 7 * Holding On * Til Death Do Us Part * The Fisherman
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Day 4 of Quitting
If this is how sobriety feels, maybe it’s better to go through life a little buzzed… this, along with other hits like, I want to kill myself, I wish I was dead, and I’m going to throw myself off a bridge have been the only thoughts on rotation these past few days. I promise myself that if, in a month, I still feel like this (‘this’ meaning despondent, full of rage, and simultaneously numb) I can go back to smoking. Until mid-February though? Nicotine is off the table.
By sleepy drafts6 days ago in Longevity
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