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Strings bend and the target barks
With each new penetration
And every lime-green leaf
Every mellow caress of sunlight
Soothes by default
It all seems to say:
'Release'
Work, life, meaning
All melt away
Beneath the steady drip
Of pointless afternoon activities
In a level English field
And I try to hang on to my meaning
I try to fight this
Warm blood sedation
A Zen cocktail with a stinging nettle heart
But none can resist this inane triumph
All the friends I once
Shared these drugged afternoons with
Are now loose arrows soaring wild:
It is lonely in the gold
And success is overrated
So me and
A brigade of misfits
Continue to punish a crimeless criminal
His sin flows out through
A thousand wounds
And I can't help but wonder:
What crime am I paying for?
William Prothero
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