A nothing from nowhere cast his words to a world wide wind, hindered by periphery. |
sole thin takes the road less traveled alone and it's worn down now by just these two shoes sole-thin tread it is 1.6.23 january no boots for this everywhere i go now they want a little piece of me. the more the better. sorry if i don't have more to give. I look each in the eye with clear blues so they might peer as deep as they should into the cavern of soul to see what I spare. a room for the night, shirt from back, last buck in my wallet. it's a game for them, see how much of me i give of myself, build margins higher on their side. I see the dots of worn down nubs all around in the deficit. red, redder. the low and lowered, when I stand up and choose to be blue. Not red or black. Not on chessboard, or checkers, if you're not into that. A pawn, maybe. But, I move circumspect of their instruction. they follow me. don’t like I make my own game of them, these people of rules and order who want to tell me where to go, where to yield and stand. My ears turn way down low, they just follow, know, they can't be a father to this man. They killed him. and i know. just riffin' off this vibe reinspect later. |