Busy Busy Busy

I've been rather busy today, but I also have a confession to make. I watched Glee during the time I could have been spending writing a blog post (for the record, this weeks episode of Glee was actually rather good. It made me burst into raucous laughter more than once). That means, I'm posting a poem, which I hope is acceptable.

The End All, Lose All

A young man, stumbling,

(Blind.

Broken.

Heartless)

Towards the end all,

Lose all.

The shade of suburbia

Lies

Shattered at his feet.

Burning oil drums line the pavement.

(So many lost boys

Holding candles of hellfire,

The wax dripping

Down their burnt digits.)

The light catches his eyes,

And you’ve seen them before:

When bombs are dropped

On innocent souls in the night;

When sweaty burgers are shoved

Down gullets into swollen bellies;

In the faces of chemotherapy skeletons

Lying prone on hospital beds;

In your own face

(Creeping closer).

He falls to the dusty concrete,

Shallow cheek pressed to the ground.

Next to him is a fallen barrel,

Its oil spread into a sticky pool.

He lifts himself up on quaking arms,

Stares deep at his own reflection in the pool,

And with a self-satisfied grin,

Collapses,

Not to breathe again.

Thing to be grateful for today: Good communication.