25 January 2013
Like this coward,
I say,
Crawl to the demise.
Sticks drag the boulders I've become,
Weigh the monochrome world,
And if I lie still against this floor,
I will feel much better,
Much, much better.
But those teeth are in my face,
A wagging cautious tail
From a familiar heirloom.
"Puppy…" I whisper like a child.
He sniffs me and lies down,
Keeping three million paces away.
Rocks burn my back,
Should I move?
Cement traps and gullies
Keep my hands from taking the elements
Of time itself to just stand again.
I hear laughter.
And freeze.
The Passing.7 • Opuss № I