Unstrung Beads

Hmm...so I was wondering when I'd hit this point...the point where I don't feel like posting stuff because it's not all rainbows and butterflies...the stuff people really want to hear. I've held back a little, because I don't want to come across...I don't know what. But let's face it..most of the times that I write, it's not butterflies...it's me really thinking about things, and things at their deepest always surpass the happy facade-like cover - or at least that's how it seems to me. SO. With that being said...here we go


Unstrung Beads

Treasure the upturned poverty
of seeping minds.

Renew this soul
that has expired under the sun.

As the sun rises and sets
so has my will settled

into the crevasse the weather scorns
onto an honest oak.

Therein, my passions
tell lies, pointing my gaze

past my fruit filled defenses
against fallen trees.

Resembling a lens,
the green onion curves and mends.

Sleeveless and coated in ankle-length
armor, we’re fully charactered

-- except for the signaling
of excess sopping beads.