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Thoughts at Thirty
A pittance for the partisan
who palisades his prime.
In Ill effect and artifacts,
Of the wrong endeavours mine
Of the wrong endeavours mine.
Firm amidst the firmament
Of worn out photographs
Three Cuttings and a shattered urn
Are all you have to show
The expect and the no.
One by one your friendships fall,
smitten with their futures thrall.
Moving on and shipping out,
whilst you wave them from the shore.
Stagnant in withdrawal.
All those words you can't take back.
All those loves gone off the track.
Broken up in wilderment,
well I wish you all the best
and I'm sorry to the rest of you.
but I say that right words most the time
yet i'm not sure that they're mine
architects of circumstance
scaffold my decline
forward walking blind.
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Make ends meet until ends grow,
filling in the hours.
Eking out a wretched hymn,
is the best that you could do?
Was this the best that i could do?
And I don't know how to love
and I don't know how i feel
and I don't have the strength for this
and I don't know what is real
have I missed my call?
Soft they smile with birthday cards
Write weaker every year
The thinning of that autograph
Is everything I fear
To lose those loved and dear to me.
So tip your hat and wish him well,
as the smoke pours from his bones.
He mutters to the embers there,
that I've never felt so alone.
I've never been so afraid.
I don't know what comes next.
Because I've never been so afraid.
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