ReWind

combing the streets
tilling a barren land to sow a soul
hands numb from carrying on for too long
cowering under the heat of arrogance
with the burden of iron laden ironies
blowing to bits all that came near
and fogging eyes with mistrusting dust
till till you rust

a few crumbs of confidence
in the darker corners of the torn pocket
slipping through like grains of sand
as the incense of futility musks its way
through the crux that is man
with all its brutality tries to hold on
a dead hard pressed hand

churned and burned in the factory of the world
screaming in silence till the voices died
condemned to meditate in the dark
with tremors of peace and disturbance in the void

like a stone rolled out of his park
for stumbling on a heresy
now splinters of myself pricked to myself
sharp edges that reflect a life
sworn to shape as a mistake
a prisoner walking down the corridor
swinging to the extremes - steps inviting
to the gallows or to drown
a life of sorrow or a life of a clown

in love with agony
with currents of eccentricity
running down the spine
and chilling the bones
marks of coarse consumption
on the high winding road
of stretches of assumptions
leaving a trail behind
of bitter burnt truths
a drug that delivered
on its promise to
leave behind a trail
of wasted youth