He Was a Slow Man

Maybe there is time
Wreckless words
Spare my thoughts for a dime
Secluding oneself on the corner
Of dreams and reality

Apparently I'm over-pronounced
Defending a beauty
Who couldn't retract old mold
Growing on the side of the moon
His life was happening too soon

Grunting at the sight
of happiness's blight
Retrogress and returned dress
As the soul of my shoes
Start to lose
Their longing for the gravel

Insanity in the form of a man
Grasping the lights
Smoothing out the sights
Glares and flares
To the rusted metal dance floor

The music along lines
Of paper smells so new
Could it be that I have something left to do?
The days are approaching
Succession, intercession,

Along all this path
With my burlap sack
I am not sated
My life needs more
Perhaps... Greatness.