A Poem


On the road, on the sub, on the bus,

always on the run, never resting.

We will sleep when we are dead.

Not an option, we try to remind ourselves.

Our past was not written but out future is!

With blood and in terror we paint on

imaginative tombstones and dance

in the moonlight to the world’s eulogy.

A girl gets left behind in the woods

as a secret sacrifice for the hollow Gods.

Religion brings out the worst in people,

but who else is the Devil, if not an angel

who loved God more than anyone else?

Dying is easy, not-giving-up is the hard part.

Opiates and cigarettes bemuse our senses.

Slowly, terror begins to fade into a long forgotten dream,

the blazing sun — “Oh, how did I miss thee!” comes out

as I stretch my hand to reach a face I thought I’d lost forever.