EARTH ABHORS A VACUUM

EARTH ABHORS A VACUUM

Trudging down a muddy path
At desperation’s edge.

Looking down from the dizzy heights
Of a building’s fabled ledge.

The cars below weave slow and prosaic,
A melancholy mosaic that burns my soul to ash.

My dreams go skidding on the cold, wet pavement,
In a heap of twisted tears they crash.

Saline floods the alleys and the disappointed thoroughfares,
Leading me to leap into the sad abyss of nowhere.

Earth abhors a vacuum, and God is sick to death of mine,
I am the bane of his existence, no longer part of his design.

Sullen is the mantelpiece on which I hang my hat.

The best laid plans slip from my hand,
My visions all have fallen flat.

My cries for help they slip and slide,
Precariously over the Great Divide.

Speaking in a foreign tongue my fellow man can’t comprehend.

Perched upon my Tower of Babel, teetering in the dusty wind.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2010
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED