Under A Grey Sky

where did I lose the ball?
when did my sight become so backwards
scattered mornings and frantic breakfasts
coffee black with two packs of shame
two broken eggs heated over fire
one long puzzled gaze
when did the ball even matter?
something to hold on to and pass on to someone
something to give me purpose and reason
when did those things matter?
there’s no one here so what’s the point
there’s no sun so why go to the beach
there’s no night so why go to sleep
there’s only me
scrambling around under a grey sky.



Leave a Thought

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s