Waiting Around For Death

Mike Essig
Oct 12, 2018 · 1 min read
mercedesbenzclub.it

A table near a window,
above the wine dark sea,
where all the things I’ve written
return as hypocrisy.

I don’t believe in truth.
I don’t believe in love.
I’ve shouted my words to tone deaf air
and they’ve fallen back from above.

I imagined myself a holy thief.
I wanted to know and feel.
Now the altars all are broken,
and there’s nothing for me to steal.

So I sit by the open window,
and stare at that wine dark sea,
and wonder what became of love,
and what will become of me.

My story isn’t over,
but I’ve nothing left to say,
so I stare at moving water,
and recall the far away.

Leave me to my solitude,
my slowly expiring breath,
I’m hoping for some insight
as I wait around for death.

Quatrains

Other Voices

A sanctuary for orphaned poems and prose.

Medium is an open platform where 170 million readers come to find insightful and dynamic thinking. Here, expert and undiscovered voices alike dive into the heart of any topic and bring new ideas to the surface. Learn more

Follow the writers, publications, and topics that matter to you, and you’ll see them on your homepage and in your inbox. Explore

If you have a story to tell, knowledge to share, or a perspective to offer — welcome home. It’s easy and free to post your thinking on any topic. Write on Medium

Get the Medium app

A button that says 'Download on the App Store', and if clicked it will lead you to the iOS App store
A button that says 'Get it on, Google Play', and if clicked it will lead you to the Google Play store