I carry it well this weight of mine. My boots dig in, and I trudge forward, as I travel through these endless plains of time.
Golden Roses, up to their necks in red From the rays of, Mid-Day Sun. as he sits, laughing overhead. They fall victim to my weight.
I yield,
to passing serpents, rattlers on their ends, alone on a dusty trail.
I stop at a rock, balanced upon another, a perfect equilibrium. Achieved in a state of quintessential delirium. I remove the pack from my back. Ease these callused shoulders,
a dangerous embrace, from this mid-day sun. The heat becomes a temporary weight to carry on. Carabineers gripping tight; to things Iβd rather leave behind.
Let them rest on the neighborβs lawn, forgotten cells, lying on the rocks of a riverbed. Let them rot in the broken complex, ****** away in an indigo vortex. Let them slip between the floorboards, of a weathered porch. Rage blind eyes make way for a deafening silence. The time has come, empty that pack and carry on into the setting sun.