All the water is gone.
No fish left in the pond.
Sodas are all off the shelf.
Maybe my last breath to myself.
What will become of me?
Only the taste of salts from the sea.
My baby needs some milk.
Then some walk by, pass in silk.
I am past the point of crying.
Past the point of shying.
Cast upon an empty earth.
All the cities, an abortion of birth.
Last night I had a dream.
The earth was empty, left only me.
I sat on a lonely rock to cry.
Only to drink the tears from my eyes.
Saturday, February 13, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: life