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A Lasting
I don't know why I write,
when my mind
is a Rubik's cube,
and I feel inside
hollow through-out
like a carved
cliche pumpkin.
I'm blinded
with myself,
so I can't even
help myself.
I have only
my brother's
pick me ups,
light as a feather,
and I can
write again,
to my pretend God,
to who I wasted
away with my eyes
straying from his.....
A 6 pack of beer,
followed
by ciders on days
not even weekends.
I wish I could venture,
outside to the world.
Copyright ©
Ryan Geoffrey Hayward
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