Almost Dead

I grow impatient
while counting sun downs
and smoking
our memories away.

I find shelter
in this journal of mine
as my insides scream out,
something about Death.

Someday, we'll become
nothing at all...
just like a
broken crystal ball.

I suppose I won't wait
to drain the truth
among these dueling seas.
We're almost dead anyway.

Reviews

[Thomas Emile Vaughen]

This is a brilliant poem. You manage to create a mood/atmosphere using very few words.

I love the line about the crystal ball - it's very poignant.

Very well done!

(Sorry this review isn't more comprehensive.)