The Revelator

 

Attrition

 

An itch that cannot be reached

Has worked its way beneath my veneer

The need to be gone is

Like a fish hook in my mind

Gone baby gone

Away from this tepid life

This place holder existence

I crave a world in three dimensions

No more peering through the window

I want

I need to step through

Lay my head upon her pillows

Close my eyes and

Let touch be my revelator

I can hear the heavy tick of time

It sounds like a walking artillery barrage

Closing in across the no man’s land

Of loneliness

Each explosion another lost moment

In this love of attrition.

 

 

 

©2017

 

 

 

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s