I stand in the shade of my room
and watch the ants
foraging for food.
I think of what’s past
and what’s gone for good.
Even as I pray
blood flows
that turns artistic
painting dreaded pictures of me.
Thoughts that fester
to give in to greed
reap your fleshly solitude
and all its needs.
In slumber loneliness flies in
its fingers running through my hair.
Jealously guarding its prize
fool’s gold, that’ll disappear