i suck bottled lightning
in shame’s tiny
shadow,
under a furrowed sky,
the sun dots my eyes so
i mount an oak tree to
find best suited
shade for
me..
rent free!
seems i’ve a hound’s nose
for dank, septic
spaces
but i’m molasses as
times pass so
senseless,
it’s a pity last supper’s
chatter spiraled
us aimless,
i’m facing crouching dangers,
swatting the grope of
well-meaning
strangers,
this backdrop’s a breathing
montage of photos we
outran and times
wasted,
but a picture’s what
you make it,
and i just confirmed you
can scratch glass
so thin its skin
cracks,
so i suspect the
portrait hung
++++
on cobwebbed window’s
just my full mood
mirrored back
Grimy Groutman
igram: https://www.instagram.com/grumpygorman/?hl=en
….now to plaster its cracks.
