Calm
Burn, fucker, burn;
Writhe in the ultimatum of pain,
Suffer the conscription of life.
Forget, now, the endless strife,
But endure the ever-painful strain.
And You and
Here with Now, your friend;
I’m feeling empty without you here;
It’s growing inside, this scary fear:
You’re joining those whom I offend.
So, time, so near, quiet, tiresome and slow,
You should no more feed
Upon our sights and silences;
Be fearful of our differences:
Let us take our own creed!
© Joseph Tradescent
Poems
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