In what will be an occasional series, I’ll be taking some of the poetry I’m creating, editing and refining and posting it for a wider audience. This is the second of two poems I wrote this week and posted on Twitter first, as I struggle to reconcile what is wanted as progress and what the world considers I have to become for that to take place.
Thank you for reading.
Reflection Turn the neck, behind to catch heat from reflection on a face that knows every second counts as pain indignity, nobody’s learning back it’s the same, bullets to the brain that do no damage yet connect the dots of past to present’s headlong dash; you do not look back only forward, pointless tumbling between these trenches, each new disaster in real time between those lines that other idiots were dared to cross and by doing so, all here have lost this took me a minute to regale another three to edit, and by then absolutely nothing in your image dared to change.
The Internet of Words 