Wednesday, March 5, 2014


Footfalls on untended paths
I pass through like a specter
I couldn't tell you
if I really passed by at all

If this road really exists
or if I'm lying in a stupor somewhere
imagining my journey
past corpse towns and screaming mothers
who have no one left to mother
maybe I never even left
perhaps I'm waiting to be buried
could be I'm a poor dumb bastard
too stupid to realize
he's already dead

But I keep walking
the landscape never changes
I walk anyhow
past different towns
that are exactly the same
united in the same bleak stink.