Written by: James Fredholm

Drifting into the fog.
Shivering, swaying, swinging,
Into the headwinds.

Dull diluted sunlight.
Straining, staggering, seeping,
Crossword puzzled meltdown.

Gasping for breath,
A poet coughs and sighs,
Spitting, slipping, surrendering,
A battle of knives and pens.

Colors out of reach,
Droning, dragging, delirium,
Never ending horizons.

Calls for help,
Go unheard like bombs,
Unanswered, unexpressed, undone,
Until they explode.

Twenty lines behind us,
Jagged and sharp like stones,
Heaving, steaming, screaming
Away away, look out below.