Sunday, December 25, 2011

a tempestuous noise

i regret i have more enthusiasm than talent in regards to poetics

alas, at the moment, i run low on that as well

who am i?  i am myself

once i was a child.  i did not heed the warnings of she who i believed my worst enemy

in fact, she was my best friend.  and she was torn to pieces because of it.  because i did not listen

i run, now.  from birds.  it must sound silly, but it is true

they live in men, and they can command the elements themselves

a fanciful tale, yes...but also one grounded in terrible, irrefutable fact

i simply run now.  run and remember my dear, sweet cordelia.

i thought her my enemy but, in truth, she was better to me than any other.

those i thought my friends were merely servants of the foul fowl that so vex me.

perhaps more, later, if i have a need to release that which haunts me within

1 comment:

  1. I lament your loss, and hers as well. At least she is gone now, no longer living and no longer in pain. Maybe she is lucky, in comparison. In comparison to who? maybe you, maybe me.

    What do you think, my dear Crocodile?