top of page
Search
  • Writer's pictureTweakUnique
    • Aug 25, 2016
    • 1 min read

Trash

A conduit of tears

is flailing through the past.

And as I sit and linger,

I wander toward the last

thought that crossed my mind.

These people, ever rash

don’t seem to even bother

to pickup all their trash.

And I wonder why

I look like the ass,

as I’m trying, failing

to just maintain my grasp.

A conduit of tears

is falling as I passed.

0 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

It's been a while since I posted a poem. So much irritation subdued in frustration. The creative bell rings less often when these distractions soften the blows to vibration and stifled timing. Here I

bottom of page