Unfinished Still Life

Stuck in the past

I wrestle the present

For a future never planned for

Lost without map

Feeling like a run on sentence

Control is illusion

Wash away from shore

Beckon brighter days

And calmer storms

A well lit path

Pain that is nevermore

But tonight

I feel like rotting fruit

From an unfinished still life

Bad apple

Skin browning from the touch of air

Whistle in the wind

Tune so bitter crisp

Cymbals crash and hit

Echo into hiss

Bask in it

Lay back and exist

Autumn’s sharp lips

Been known to freeze you with a kiss

Cold touch tender

Honest rot

Graveyards in November

Stubborn scene

Skinflint trees hoarding last leaves

This starving mind

Rave on the leash

Search for meaning

Daylight receding

Sun retreating

Rinsing and repeating

Until curtain close ends the trend

Cast of actors abandons set

Show goes on until it doesn’t

And breath has a habit of feeling redundant

Death is a taboo topic of discussion

Fear of nothing

No longer exist

Final exit

Sunrise begins again

View it from my slits

Grip

Don’t drift

Drip into oblivion

Hope to cherish life before death

Endless quest for rest

A rusty swing set

Rain colored screws coming loose

Moving never going

Turn the ground into a pool

Lost in the stream of consciousness

Grab my net for catching breath

Look at who is loose

Being overdramatic again

Count to 10 and exhale

Experience the beauty of lungs

Heartbeat drums

Energy creates a rhythm that produces

The most beautiful music

Drop in

Tune out

Lose my grip

Drop out

Tune in