Saturday, March 09, 2013

The Mag 158: All Is Spilled

Photo by TheFoxAndTheRaven


All is spilled

There is nothing more
I romanticize. Not bath
nor sleep. Not the ache 
of empty night. 

The voices are of no comfort.
They press me awake endless hours

Is this an inquisition? 
Must I answer? I am pulverized, 
strained through a cauldron 
of one sided talk-

I look to my wrist
I look for answers
I look, I look...


Michael A. Wells



  

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