Dull Metal. Cushioned box

One dead light bulb
Adding a tad more darkness
To my vanity

A gray pallor, blue under the eyes
Heading to a cubicle cell
I need the road or too soon I’ll die

From my father’s obituary
“Never wanted to take the same way to work twice”
Once the roots dug in
So too the worms would make nice

Sold your, warrior, capped tin.
I awoke to find mine, mirrored coffin

Sustantivos where have you been?
Trapped inside, dimming light, dying friend

look long enough and the shine you will see
behind the lid, past the glass, where the dirt must be

One thought on “Dull Metal. Cushioned box”

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