Should not be brewing
In your bank
Of thoughts

Come on

We both knew that I would start
And not finish
Start, then drift off like the sea
Weed smoke and no fire

We both knew


We dove
Two doves

Hope hanging
No real grasp
On why things were

You are one of many
Many years
Many puddles and tears

A thought
The thought of changing soiled habits
Soiled positions

Too secure for this disease to be called one
It will not eat me alive
We will dine together

© Joseph Thomas