Grey clouds,
This day's companion. Unspeaking,
And yet, speaking volumes.
Through the veil of red tinged vision,
Piercing the shadows of new depression.
Share a cigarette with your shadow, joined
At the feet.
Fresh baptism from cool drizzle in a windless
Alcove under hanging trees, bent with the weight
Of their own troubles: no mentors here.
Just these thoughts, turned clods in the furrows
Of the mind. Ploughed and ploughed some more.
Turn, turn and turn, watching the exposed worms
Hide from the blinding light.
The brief spark of pain, hot ember on a clumsy
Finger. Once more,
Enslaved by reality, victim to gravity
And the knowledge of time plunging relentlessly forward.
The choice: cling to the ride, or elect to allow oneself to fall
Off.
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