Trash

A conduit of tears
is flailing through the past.
And as I sit and linger,
I wander toward the last
thought that crossed my mind.
These people, ever rash
don’t seem to even bother
to pickup all their trash.
And I wonder why
I look like the ass,
as I’m trying, failing
to just maintain my grasp.
A conduit of tears
is falling as I passed.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s