Posted in Poetry

Two Cents of Leisure


-Meandering Meerkat

This might be the last thing I write
Or it may even be the first
Depends on whether my blood clots
Earlier or my vein bursts
With words rushing out with the flow
And pouring down with parts of me
Giving pieces of me away
Is the price to not freeze
And I try to catch them with a vial
But they seem to want to flee
They’re looking for someone else
Almost as if they don’t know me
How do I give them who they want
This is what makes me afraid
Because the person that they want
He was recently found dead
And now I’m losing so much blood
With no heart to pump me more
I feel no pain from this ordeal
After all, I’ve been dead before

There’s something about this place,
I have been here before,
Wading through the sands of time,
When I come across its tranquil serenity,
I feel strangely connected.
No map knows its address,
Not even my own,
I’ve tried to find it many a time,
But always,
This place ends up finding me,
When I have lost myself.
The more I look for it,
The more it eludes me,
It’s as if I’m playing some strange game,
Against my own desires,
And every time I lose,
I win over myself.
And thus I wade through time,
Losing and finding myself,
Over and over again,
In this beautiful maze of dilemmas,
That people call life.