I am almost out of time
The more I struggle
The tighter the grip
On my tired mind
How can one small heart
Be so full
Of dust and air
And the resonant remnant of
Life
The scarred mark of each
Insensitivity
Set to splinter
So deep I cannot dig it out
There are no words
Just this circular path I’ve worn
An un-removable groove
Furrowed lineage of
Rebels and tyrants and the unwashed
Yapping jackals
Finally silent
I’ve run out of words
Saying everything
To say nothing at all
TL Boehm
04/06/13