Untitled Poem

I return to the word regretfully
As the man who lingers nervously
Amongst the musted tobacco clouds
‘Neath the tarnished arches and neon lights
Awaiting a cure for loneliness

I search for my dark self amongst the dimmed lights
As the dead turn down the sheets
Their eyes filled with the echoing of decay
I reflect upon the fallen arches, the rotted fruit
In this minstrel show of life, I have no words

In this darkness, my dark self is near
Uninterrupted vortex, spinning chaos
My inward self a death stroll
Brown as the leaves in autumnal choke
Village children all alone amongst the azure mist of sad stares
Somber boys fixed on the girl in blue
The motherly figure of man

I am nothing but a subservient bride
Barred from the garden
Left to the cruel joke of man
To tumble and toil
Wrestle with words
A Cretin’s labyrinth