On this slope 100 years
Bone on Bone
Youth and power
Now becoming dust
I will not return
The rope is gone
Cable frayed
Froze in time
Mornings repeat
A breadcrumb trail
The days tick by
A dripping tap
Of the friends
Remains only me
Their memories
Caricatures in my wake
The money, the sex
Deception of love
Pomegranate lipstick
On a pink, pink pig
Laying lanquid
In a backwater
Off the mainstream
I hold my breath
I await the end
Looking through the rip
At the empty beyond
© 2015 Martin H Wilde