Untitled 1


Coffee stains and ash prevailing on
my mind, most days are consumed
staring at the rings of my expanding
senility, the pictures in the window
continue to decay, I’m earnest
with each poured cup, it’ll be different
again and again, begins to cool
each time the sun rises as I continue
to hunt the darker shades on
my wall, old maps and old sayings
carry on and on, I get strayed in the
single coat mistakes made, but
they always reach the plaster.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems


Share This Poem