lately, my writing has become a lot
like my lovemaking,
the desire is still there,
but the potency has long since gone,
I suppose the two go hand-in-hand,
there were many times when
words were just an extension
of certain body parts,
so perhaps there is some validity
to this observation,
now the question is;
can it be more?
and for this
I have no answer;
the fire is going out,
many areas of my life are dying,
some days I cannot even
remember the point,
and that is a very dangerous
place to be,
I am slowly being reduced
to one side of the fence
or the other,
no more in-between,
no more middle-of-the-road,
no more shades of gray,
no more lukewarm,
hot or cold,
black or white,
life or death;
life changing decisions,
require life changing choices;
there is much I could say to you,
but nothing can undo the hurt,
nothing can bring back the life,
nothing can make right
the wrong,
everything has come down
to this moment;
the last poem,
the last word,
the last song.
.
.
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