Poem #40

Ardent Fool
Viaducts run dry, a familiar feel, all too real…
Trumped up aggressions and emotions run wild
the stepping stone follows his heart, dancing
along love’s narrow ways. Hands reach out,
pulling him hither, leaving him tither with heart
unbound. Ever he reaches for something vague
that lost glimpse of love, never failing to open
his heart, though the others have left their mark
he subliminally fucks his own world. Oh,
the ironies of life!

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