When, The Wasteland
On the Inevitability of Impermanence
Love is earned, seldomDeserved. Demanded,But always incomplete, becauseFor the entitled toStruggle equates an inadequacy.We have such wide eyesFor the fleeting high ofSunset love and movie magic,Making desperate uneasyAttempts to petrifyThe fields of Elysium,To eternalize the world beforeThe wasteland.Perhaps, because we know thatAll we have,All you have ever knownWill fade away, one day.These places and times of plentyFall victim to their wintered sleep,Both inevitable andImpermanent. A question ofWhen, not why.No one ever saidPerfect meantForever.
About the Creator
Jake Sierzega
Rock'Artist | Bookworm | Writer
One-Fourth of the Ambient Rock Band, Dreamer & Son.
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Cold Toes: Tired Feet
There's no heat in my house and these floors have teeth. Cold toes always pitter-patter best to the tune of winter blues anyway, if that's the ditty we've got to sing. Maybe this year I'll freeze half to death, then the holes in my socks and pockets can have at what's left. If it's so, rest my body to the weathering hymn of this hardwood's creaking. Until then, you can find me in bed, lover - even jump in. Just know a chill settled through your end, and I'm sorry these sheets are so thin with too few dollar bills to patch them.
By Jake Sierzega6 years ago in Poets
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