Unattended Back Doors

by alcoholicpoet.com

a dark poem for the vagabond within us all. 


the horizon stumbles over gravity.

more perspective than condition.

fragile sticks in the fists of change.

its eternal equation still solving for what we are to become.

lost is not a place. nor is found.

we assemble our destinations from what remains of ourselves after we arrive.

falling is a map that boils under our skin. full of all the little lies that infect us.


we are nomads. wandering inside ourselves.

searching for an exit.



Filed under: November 2024 Sad Poems