Autumn Abstraction
Crunch.
Leaves under my feet
The most fragile sheets of rust;
Memories fallen to concrete
And turned to dust.
A scent to accompany the sound;
A scent that's sweet and calming
Only because it's rare.
Something still nags at me.
It tugs at the back of my mind
And the bottom of my stomach
Like a child's dirty fingers pulling at the hem
Of mother's skirt.
Only it's nothing like that.
The mud smears the same way,
But the act is far less endearing.
And still I wander
And listen
And breathe.
Silence punctuated by the crunch
Of fragile gold and rust and bloodshot sheets
Breaking.
Emptiness that smells like
Autumn dust.
And a contrasting chaos amidst it all;
A mind that wonders
Whether it should ever wonder,
And thoughts that leave no choice.
Amidst all the internal chaos,
The silence rings louder than gunshot.
Leaves under my feet
The most fragile sheets of rust;
Memories fallen to concrete
And turned to dust.
A scent to accompany the sound;
A scent that's sweet and calming
Only because it's rare.
Something still nags at me.
It tugs at the back of my mind
And the bottom of my stomach
Like a child's dirty fingers pulling at the hem
Of mother's skirt.
Only it's nothing like that.
The mud smears the same way,
But the act is far less endearing.
And still I wander
And listen
And breathe.
Silence punctuated by the crunch
Of fragile gold and rust and bloodshot sheets
Breaking.
Emptiness that smells like
Autumn dust.
And a contrasting chaos amidst it all;
A mind that wonders
Whether it should ever wonder,
And thoughts that leave no choice.
Amidst all the internal chaos,
The silence rings louder than gunshot.