Like a beer-battered bat at dusk
I pursue my blind bisecting,
cutting the deep crisp skin
never finding the change โ
the flaw origin.Another day, another year,
another life will pass away
before daybreak arrives
and I find my headstone
covered in red roses -thistles line the paths in shadow
and the lawn no longer mowed
and the sad shrubs that once
bore fruit: sweet, sweet
truth.Like a broken bat at first light
I return to the cave called home
and the headstone of old
in waiting,all roses long since gone,
withered lives paired up
in a marriage of doom,like a pawn in a game of chess
already won: purposeless, yetawaiting the next game.
