to live free... like the beatniks and flowers
to kick the bucket rung by rung
to sleep rough
with a pocket full of green lights
free to wander and loiter and litter and wonder
to love and fuck the one sun under the bridge
to hum hymns over bottomless drinks
round extinguished pits of regret
free like the flames of evenings past
the night stood the fire, the light didn't last
to morning
free to say goodbye
to the only ones mourning
thanks for reading! feel free to let me know what you think or hit the heart if you liked it. much love!
About the Creator
Munro Campbell
writer by vocation, not profession. embracing the artist's struggle. | blog: thoughtcritic.co
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