- Non-Erotic Poetry
- The Balloon
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Feather the touch
As it slides across
The wings flutter still
A lazy circle, aimlessly drawn
Crossing the mid-morning sky
Dancing balloon, bobbing still
A sad life along the cold, empty street
Trailing a string, bedraggled and worn
Catching the drainage grate fast
Fluttering vainly in the breeze, struggling
Inevitable doom
Sinks I to the gutter, touching down in murky depths of
Diseased opulence
The flow too strong, and steadfast here, sucking
To the deep, dark of absence of light
The balloon it sinks, failing joy
A child's hope forever dashed, alone
Huddled against the slick wet of stone
Twigs reach and snap, the string deftly avoiding only to fall
The rush of water dragging deeper and deeper...
Caught on a grate, it's once proud surface
Dark and damp, encrusted with murk, blocking
Scrabbling visitors, keen eyes peering
A sniff here, a taste there, tentative chewing
Teeth razor sharp piercing the soft skin
With a final explosive gasp, the balloon breathes
It's Last, and less itself
Disappears, flowing deeper
Into the sewers of Misery
