The last quarter of my 30th year,
is that a good place to start?
I’ll write with maturity and wit –
as I mourn tattered pieces of half my life past.
Lost to carelessness.
Locked in a tragic tomb.
A U.S.B – Sweet technology failed me.
Saving my drunken years -as plain as day,
should reader surf the internet.
I’ve written my soul & cried out my spirit,
I’ve lost more than my weight in gold
in pages of poetry
I’m a feeling faint and feather light;
Less than whole.
I suppose this is not a good place to start.
For the reader now knows there is a prelude
to my attitude that now exists.
And I question!
How I question!
What is a restart?
A re boot?
Hoping for the perfect start?
The perfect lines
of perfect poetry
Ever eluding me.
As does immortality
If I died tonight,
then these words would be my last thoughts,
and I’d have introduced you
to the end.
January 2nd 2017