a poem...finally! no explanation for poems that are finished, i want people to get it themselves. but this one is a rather strange piece, and it's actually quite unfinished - i don't know how to end it. openings are my killer lines, but the endings always stump me.
---
i chase absolution
with emptied coffee cups saturated in
the aroma of too much frothy milk
and the piles of torn flaky paper on my desk
heap up slowly, haphazardly.
it's a crime scene, one of my nervous tics.
mornings are rushed - i burrow in and out of
train stations like an embarrassed beaver.
head down, briefcase up.
it's not like i have guilt plastered over my cheeks
or a warning label slapped
in crimson
on my forehead.
the work-bells chime so reluctantly and i
sleep in my cubicle, eyelids fluttering
spick-span and tidied with memos in place.
---
a.n. yes it's not the end yet but i don't know what the last line(s) should be about.
YOU ARE READING
unfinished
Randomever had piles and piles of unfinished writing drafts? this is it. © iridcscents ; 2018
