'Life's Litter.'

Life's litter strewn
across the bedside table,
cornered by the photograph
ripped in two

haunted beauty
smiled

defaced.

Distant melodies
fed
my lobes as
the needle throbbed

blue veins empty

tears to be born
never came,
the moment crushed

cracked like a jigsaw
the final piece gone.

Thro' the eyes of my inner child
I saw fear
skit across the landscape

borrowed

bludgeoned

burnt

mirrored within my own self worth.

Innocence lost each night,
dreams cradled
blatantly sold

the promise of freedom
born from rage

soiled

and I can save my world,

the inevitable
consequence of delusion.

I am what I am,
a dead man waking

in time for the ultimate score.

© 2008 Michael J. Earnshaw