The side of the road
The side of the road
Although a magical place with lush carpet grass and blossom overhang, the waft of particulate diesel and virgin handrails debilitate my nervous soul
I lay somewhere between a farmers fence and the hot tarmac, the taste of vulcanised rubber and dandelion stem muddles bloody coagulant
Flowers suddenly appear, with the rosery beads I told them not to bring and their heavy feet trampling my bed of unrest
I told them not to morun my death on the side of the road
Yet here they be
Weaping their salted tears into rivers of irrigation, pleading with the gods to grow another me
And Beneath the grey sun, when the living are asleep
I
A shadow amongst nocturnal maggots
Am
A heart to feast, with a side of eternal life.
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Comments
This piece stems from the observations of many souls lost to the side of the road, it's a fascinating place, a place on the edge of existence, it is the edge of life where the living go to die and the dead remain alive. Sometimes I walk on the side of the road, hoping to catch a glimpse of death.
Catch a glimpse then let it go,
the edge of life is where you sit,
at least for now.
Stunning piece you're writing here, 9 Eleven.
I was missing your poetry. Bernadete