Poetry

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Weightless dreams float with a debonair flirt

Just out of reach



I strain against the door of time

While balancing on the second-hand of fate

Fearful that if I let go, I will be crushed in the moment



Opportunity has become a playful dog who has caught the scent of innocence

Chasing neophyte sprites on an endless horizon

Where I once played



Duty hammers another nail in my foot

As obligation shackles the fervent muse of youth



Contentment has become a frigid corpse who rejects my desperate attempts at intimacy

While success is a bloated debutante who demands my attention yet loathes my advances



The wind that fills my sails is the gusty bellow of mortality

The desire for acceptance violently prods me

While my wasted time mocks me with savage rigor



And so I am a drifter

A nomad

A gypsy & a thief

A vagabond son

Bound to the clay that will someday claim me

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