Should a thought threaten.


A hindersome sound,
that echoes strangely,
like these dusty shoes worn through,
they are old memories in tired jackets.

I bend my head, contemplating,
and wonder if I am healed,
or hindered.
Some stories are silent.

I rest my hand on something solid,
as the floor flows like a river,
beneath me.
I am never more than thinking.

A hindersome sound,
like a ticking clock,
with a listless tongue,
all alone again, with my thoughts.

Published by B

I am B (call me BB and I will gut you) I like daisies, books, and men who understand the wisdom of Kermit the Frog. I refer to my favorite person as TMW5T Why? because if he had 6 I'd call him TMW6T, duh!!

%d bloggers like this: