Poem -

THE LAST OF LIFE'S BREADCRUMBS---- I SHALL CRUSH IT

Skins shed
laid in unfashioned pillars 
piles of gutted cotton
refugees
from last nights menace
proud the glass bottles
in Attention
empty vessels which have sailed

Answers strangled by Question
pitiful in the required eye
so light has evicted
my good honest velvet friend
night

logic
nailed to the plaster of the wall
smiling old in framed collusion
meaningless in a known pose
witness
witness
to this sinking
ending--

life a trail of breadcrumbs
will lead this broken  echo
as a child's story
too the stilted voice
where life raged in honest glory

his mummified hands
stretch in map
of his face
his head
to the constant reveal

on the dusty trail
the uneven score
just a single breadcrumb
all crushed in gore

Time stretches
it's wire
hung from its taunt treacherous pace
we deliver
in disgrace
me a floating drowning paradise
recovered in painted gallery
watching a waiting mirror
cracking creaking causing effect

THE LAST BREADCRUMB
 

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author
Silent Dreamer

You've such a immeasurable talent for using metaphors! A stunningly brilliant piece, loved it👏🏽👏🏽

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