Poetry Prose


A peg or a cog.
Everything in my world ends in a g.
Nothing fits and I feel it all.
The shattering waves and booms
Rebound and roil through me.
Cataclysms for one.
Single-serve trauma for
The aimless loner.

Too much of the underbelly
And not near enough of the light.
Pull away the curtain
And the sun is winking goodnight.
Dreams are not dreams,
Just a disjointed journey
Of half-truths played out with Fluttering lids.

“Awake!” you scream
But it doesn’t make it stop.
You think you can help.
Please let me go,
Let me be.

The melancholy clouds
Contain faces I should know.
People I held dear whose names
Begin to form
But never travel along
My wicked tongue.

Float on the sidewalk,
Ever forward to the place
Where this all might make sense,
A beaten down chunk of machinery.
Insignificant to you.
The smallest of cogs.

© 2023 Jeff E. Brown. All rights reserved.

By jebrownwriter

Houston, TX-based Writer and Photographer. Proud pet rescuer who spends nearly all his money on them.

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