mike mcnickolas

A World View In A Church Pew

aspirations on mantle piece rust,
the mirage of a managable life
smothered by thin air,
nothing here,
nothing there,
i give nothing
but nothing seems fair.

self esteem on polished mirror taunts,
haunts my blind spot,
as i twist almost as fast
as my back evades my sight,
nothing wrong,
nothing write,
righting, written wrongs
through long imesurable nights.

crooked smile on bewildered face drips,
lists deformities of mine
through silence and distance,
i dismiss this involuntary resistance,
no assistance,
alone defenseless,
defendeing deaths right to
pervert the gift of life.

death is the tunnel
life is the light.

Poem Submitted: Monday, January 5, 2009
Poem Edited: Monday, January 5, 2009

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