On a cold moon lit night
I can hide from my bad self
but not my shadow.
Standing on the bridge
i know the water below
i will not see again.Curiosity
is turning over old boards:
watching bugs scatter.After much reading
! know what I have to say
has been said before.
Some habits are good:
early morning lying in bed
skipping stones in the bay.
Here are the loud ones:
crash bang and slam through life
inconsiderate.Death hides in corners
cowering and confident
in its sticky web.Talking niceties
I say what you want to hear
nothing but bullshit.
