frantic tapping of my fingers
touching the keys where others before me touched
I'm shattering the silence of the library
like a chorus of locusts
my fingers scour the internet searching
for the vital meat of a job
the shred of decency
the treacle of hope
we are/I am the bread pudding of
but I do not accept a crust
why am I/why are we encased
in a cocoon of wasted despair
seeking the next seat in front of the
gateway to middle American sameness
which feeds the gullet but
does not serve the soul.
copyright October 20003 All Rights Reserved By This Author
Recently rediscovered on January 15th 2015 and re-entered here.
Meloo/Melissa A Howells straight from her Tilt-a-World
all poetry/prose/rants/ideas are the legal copyright property of this writer.
this has been copyright/published in two other print media
thank you for reading.
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