see the goodMature

every bass drum bluster
assailing thin walls
proceeds a shiver.
in my cold isolation it is a solitary symphony.
my desperate mind tears from ten point text
glowing cumulus bask above the deluge
a tenacious crow anchors briefly to the rattled deadwood
a cobweb floating limply out of reach
and detritus of a life half lived paves my daily grind
recollections: welcome presumption
no harm done
no good either
by millimetre margins either way
at least my words sunk their teeth
or perhaps I overestimate my part?
at least I heard my own admission
to think it took such poison to release it
to ally the passion and the pain
and accept my foolhardy ambition
to risk my tattered heart again.


(1st Feb 2008)

The End

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