Trudge, trudge
don’t droop your eyes
walk through mud,
no submersibles in the rivers and gullies
collecting tires without a vehicle
hanging instead about your neck
and arms.
Yells collect behind those metal belts
looping and trapped
heard only by yourself and the mud
trudge, trudge.
Please, enjoy the needless resistance
for another sixty years.
I like this. Glad to see you writing again. It feels like its been a while. Or maybe I’m just not very observant.
Not much poetry. A lot of drunken depressed rambling and stuff about chopping leather and tires hehe
Haunting and heartbreaking
Hey thanks :). Did you drop in via Walker? Wouldn’t mind seeing you back.
Walker did recommend your blog to me. 🙂