Past Tense

There's never a quiet moment in this orphanage of lost thoughts.
Every night I meander into group therapy alone.
I wonder which lost soul I'll save tonight,
And by the way, who am I?

AM/FM contraband,
Broadcast to the city of the already damned.
Broken bottles shipwrecked again,
Driftwood diaries left to repent.

I never knew what I thought you knew.
Barren, vast, and devoid,
Careful in my reckless endangerment.
Rose colored gas mask of years of "sucking it up."
Prepared for nothing much,
But hoping for the impossible.

What do I do now?
When Once Upon A Time begat The End.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2006

Poem

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