It's Not The Air That Gets Me

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Quick poem.

Submitted: September 05, 2013

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Submitted: September 05, 2013

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I search through broken jars and rusty cans

as if the answers are amongst them.

Extinguish cigarettes in any old thing 

like dreams I fell over in pursuit of a disatisfied end.

Body scavagened by the caustic old crows

who so soundly sit in rows

peering down in search of the same

empty promises we seek

with such conviction.

The house creeks in an old rythmn

worn by wind and rain

It's not the air that gets me

It is the silent suffering

the tiny cracks where it will all give way.


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