Walkin on Air

Dead-end Street

Twilight seeped slowly into darkness
obscuring my escape.

Run! Run! Run away from the inevitable:
dust unto dust, there is no escape;
splinter-shavings of the cross
scatter in sporadic strewing
across land belabored by generations,
tilled to the tunes of bending backs
that house screaming muscles stretched
beyond the breaking-point.

This is not a joyful story; our ancestors fell
from lofty heights into slavery of carrying
death about in a tight embrace, distracted
only by wretched bereavements
testing their very sanity and faith!

A worn-out path of life leads to death:
tangled corpses clutter Hell's caverns
catapulted by gravity's trajectory,
oozing death rattle halitosis
while emitting eerie gasps of forlorn hope;
a glib devil on my shoulder whispers, I told you so',
twisting the meniscus holding my head high
so much so I attain a hobgoblin's silhouette
and utter a piccolo stutter of arabesque monosyllables
cursing the cosmic comedy.

Am I a dowser deputed to find vindication for failure?
Bang, bang, you're dead!

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Dead-end Street

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