Hemmingpath

I sent me home.
Lost the way.
Gave in to streets.
Incomplete sentences
poured out.
Until the bell tolled,
I was free.
Bar fights,
bull swords,
and drunk fishing;
inspiration?
I hope not.
Another rum
at the end of a 
too-soon famous
career.
I worry about the end.
It seems too far away
and could come
in the middle.
Catatonia, 
the terrifying isle.
It's only by boat.
No one makes it.
Some try.

Leave a comment

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s