Writing, Ideas, & Stories
where did you go;
the days creek by
following whispers of ghost
sheer cold keeps me still-
yield.
they’ll follow me-
they’ll follow me ’till
i become them
until that day,
i’d like to spend them with you,
the last swish of quill
before the creeks settle in
tomorrow night i’ll be back
with the brief moments of silence
waiting
i crave the peace
trapped in a box
of screaming wildebeest
stomping around singing
it’s a small world after all,
this is what they’ll see on my final days
death by Lion King,
they’ll laugh at that joke on their final meetup
doing what it was intended,
never want them to see the madness
just the joke
Saint's Muse 