Shamed Gold

Like pedaling with no hands, calm assures me. Deceitful tin encasing copper grins. The fellows by street lamps speak a tear to me and the shame knowest them not.

Sad hours seem long, as do the days climbing rocks with no rope and washing mud from skin. Trees glancing wind shields through locks long forgotten. However, vanity still swoons like some old friend run-in at a coffee shop. Acquainted, yet not endeared. And as those words shiver from me like beads of water off leaves, so too gone are the  syphoning of mirror-looks.

Prologue to an Epilogue

It was the afternoon of a Friday I had decided to die. I had repeated my vows to the Earth as it smiled more sneeringly than the moon. There were no more sinking ships to save. No more bills left unpaid or debts to settle. No more potential to squander. Now just simple principles standing erect on an open plain, I open my eyes to the reality of my glory. Personal though it may be, I was tired of wasting the hours. The only thing worth saving at this point would be someone else.