Poem: “You Jest My Friend”, notebooks, Jim Stallings

You jest my friend

To think I am laughing,

For in truth I am deep

In a year of remembrance

And remorse as deep as nails,

Struck to the heart of things

Where life and death pass

One into the other,

So much so that change

Is blurred by vivid ache,

And hope expires in stale air

Foul as the breath of mushrooms

Whose poisonous seeds cloud

The low caves where your eyes

Once glowed inside a skull crushed,

By ambition’s maniac arc,

Drowning now into…

A pit of slime & pointlessness.

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Filed under flash poetry, poetry, prose poetry, works in progress

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