Jump Start
Jump Start
Reflective pebbles dash the lost marbles of my kind,
I struggle to get going, almost certainly lost my mind,
An ague aches drawn lines upon a taut canvass,
Sandwich hammed into a figure, I guess you can't understand,
The calamity of breathing, the noises damning man,
Each motion an act towards living of utter devotion,
Gurgling innuendo, with the slow clammy sweat,
Which is owned by another, carrying my name,
To be sure last night I said no more,
But the wine won my game just the same.
@Andrew Carnegie, Hungover in Wiltshire, 12th Jan, 2017.
Copyright © Andrew Carnegie | Year Posted 2017
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment