Drop of the Dead Man's Journey

As summer rises

on a winter's blow

I see a dead man's journey

far below

 

for who could tell

when my brain bunched

right when the time

suddenly crunched

 

Or perhaps after

there's no set time or place

sometimes it's before

to make me look like a special case

 

there's no understanding

there's no separate landing

there's no held out hand to keep you up standing

 

you have to breathe

you have to live

you have to smile

 

you're back from the dead with no place to hide

even with what you feel inside

 

that empty idea that love could fly

that words don't have to rhyme

 

that no structure

means better puncture

 

More than two footsteps can travel

So the other doesn't unravel

 

As summer rises

on that winter's blow

I see a dead man's journey

far below

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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