Treasure Island

alex haywood

(12/21/1963)

dying by the minute


I run with abandon
to reach the horizon
before the orange sun sets.
The oddity that is me
dying by the minute
acutely alive

Engaged in an organized
resistance to fate
My curious eyes drink in
life as it unfolds
listening to the flowers
as they bloom
with deafening noise

Touching a body
with an intensity borne
of a naked night together
sandpapered feelings
examined in the candlelight
the wine a perfect compliment
so succulent and right

Villages of thought
patiently waiting to be conquered
by the roaming horde that is me
and the birds,
each feather in a hurry
kissing their own currents

creation dying a bit daily
deliciously
with me

Submitted: Thursday, September 28, 2006
Edited: Saturday, September 25, 2010

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