Walk

I have to walk the talk, but when I get there my lips remain shut.

Who am I to shatter the ambivalent nature of my rut.

In densely packed woods I can let out a quiet sigh, just maybe this once I have outrun the spies.

The mud here is perfect for a shallow grave, if they come, but just watching the flailing of my mind is good enough for some.

I put my head against the tree, old oak, older than me. This how I know you don’t need eyes to see.

And in the distance the bark of a dog … I have to walk the talk … Just to lose myself and drive myself out of town with a pitch fork.

D November 2018

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.