Flying ducks

Her eyes are locked and loaded with the memories of last night
she rises and she leaves me and I fight to stay awake,
my body crushed my fists are pushed against the aching that I feel,
was last night to be my breakfast or was last night my final meal?

The light sends saws to cut me because it saw me on my own
and the day goes on in solitude where a house is not a home.
the devil does his handiwork and idleness creeps in
I drink my coffee slowly as my world begins to spin

where upside down is outside and the side I’m looking through,
where
the window closes noisily on the person that I knew,
when the tunnel ends only to begin and you do it all again,
but you know the end result will bring you heartbreak and
more pain,

then the fog that came upon you spirals up and all is clear
and the dream you thought was truly real begins to disappear

and the sun comes out dry your tears.

© 2018, John Smallshaw.