down under the diminishing dawn of
that amazing awful spring morning
weakness wrecked havoc with what
was left of the body of him
that shell wondered worried for
what seemed longer than necessary
under starry skies and with a dry
pallet, he did now sleep and fasted
not because he cleansed or wasn’t
tired, but because, believe it or not
he was full, fed up with wasted worries
stories that should never be told
terrible truths of a tangible experience
a tangle of them to be truly truthful;
time went on without waiting for,
and from it all nothing was gained
a long list of losses was left, more
than would normally be necessary
to, regrettably, relinquish one’s own
right to be happy, so that was that
nowadays no one really knows
everyone should know nothing, but
they think they know, which is,
in truth the sickening sad part
the ordeal is just begun, in part
the last and longest road is just
ahead, and instead of looking back
forward is the only way, across…