A Poet wishing, watching, waiting

My life’s ludicrous lust.
A poignant perplexed poet, pondering.
Outside drones descend to dull him.
His envious egocentric eyes resting empty.
His fearful façade forever facing,
A woeful world which watches his wasting,
Only to see his exterior disintegrating,
The crumbling and scatterings of his dreams emptying,
Turning to fragments all to be wasted,
Turning to dust free of his lust.
Never to live.
Never to trust.
Never being seen.
No shining beam.
My life’s ludicrous lust.
Inside it blossoms, how I wish I could trust.
To follow my lust, all I need is trust.

poem by Paul Latham
Added by Poetry Lover
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