Half Blind

over the border and across the line best guess forward as I follow behind I travel the path smell the roses with thorns looking not touching seeing red flags that worn between blown tumbleweeds and the spinney soul in the depths of deception and what used to be whole all that remains where the wheel has rolled is tracks in smooth sand from what's taken its toll the hour grows early the sun has not risen the trail grows weary as it breaks from tradition handing down emptiness I shake hands with what's given it all looks so innocent in this standard of living arching my back as I stretch and yawn there in my consciousness it seeps from the claws inside the chambers and this ditch of my mind I remove my sunglasses and I stare half blind