Life’s Little Misdirections 🥀🦋

Decaying Words Buried

I could write you a eulogy every night,
Pack away those tiny words in tiny type --
Click, click, clack away a story
Hidden from all those redirected eyes.

The steel writer gathers dust, rust.
The black ribbon unspooled stains
a blank page like murder scene clues.
The detectives all look the other way.

I'm dead here anyway, tall grass grave
With interlaced daisies bright on dry blood.
I had many years, many chances,
But chose to piddle it all away --

A brain masturbating itself into decay,
The rotting gray in numb skull withered.
I scrawled my random messages on walls:
White on white, black on black, now blue,

As green layered by white seals my fate --
A corpse on this hard lawn, composting.

When spring arrives, words fully absorb.
You could ask anyone, I was never here.
An obit didn't run, a toll for words spun, unpaid.
Ask the editor if he keeps me in a Manila file.


1.20.22

I really don't know. Tap, tap, tap and then...