Crazy old feelings
Fears and ambitions.
and a home one bedroom too short to use.
What’s the use?
Got the blues.
Ain’t singing in these dodgy shoes.
It’s a big issue not a homeless crime.
A variety of mind where the sins are mine.
I don’t know this time.
I can’t rewind.
The things I’ve said or the fields I’ve mined.
Said quietly like an unignited flame, going out silently.
lay dorment, politely.
I’ll ask nicely.
“Who am I allowed to be?”
This feeling won’t leave me be, inadequacy.
Not pondering what I should, being the ultimate good.
Spending my own blood for a mud hut that’s cold with the doors shut.
I don’t know.
It’s the end of my game
Like an unignited flame.
©G.P Williamson 2017