Inferno Arizona. 10 am.
I pick at once frozen french fries
Stare at stove with no thought.
No thoughts of no thought.
Then the phrase
"Death On A Dreary Brook"
Slips out from the subconscious.
And I am unsure of the definition of
Dreary
And I am not sure that Brook
Is really a word
I look up the definitions
Dreary:dull.bleak.lifeless.
Brook:a small stream.
Alright...
Who put those words in my head?
What wants me to know what about what?
I take a slug of hot black coffee
Rub my small hands upon my
Chewed up face
I do it all like coffee hot small face
Are real things
Like trivial mouth sounds can
Shelter me from the definite terror
Of undefinite existence
You can cling to your words
And pretend they mean something
Death on a dreary Brook.
Words mean nothing
Black crows trapped
In pitch dark caves
For eternity.