What's it all about......351/365

Always guessing at the wings of birds.
Mediocre existence- Piled-up, dropped down,
Splayed as if feelings can be neutered.

Give me the passage to God- no more
bowing to men, to end up in the gutter.

All those young whores in spandex,
Needle-hurt by life, all the praises toward
False gods of commerce.

Let us swirl in the paint & drown,
Cry for lovers lost, wounds open, seeping

like light at the corners of our eyes
That fade with dissipated dreams

Gone bereft-
Tired of everything.

~Heather Lenz