7 March 2014

car·riage (kăr′ĭj) – A moving part of a machine for holding or shifting another part.

This is a really short, bleak poem. I suppose I was feeling pretty weary when I wrote it. I didn’t even intend for it to be short at all but the words just stopped coming. I re-read it later and realised it didn’t need anything more as it summed up how I was feeling at that particular moment. You may have felt the same way…

Image: Donne nebbia ferrovia


I look into her eyes and she looks into mine
Knowing what I see and knowing she sees it too, in me.
Tired eyes in an expressionless void. Drained dry.
Too sleepy to resist, too empty to care,
We are the collective sum of tired promises we made to ourselves and each other.
I’m sure you hate it as I do, trying so hard to fail.
There’s a world out there but these tracks promise a destination
And so we carry on, opting for the known over the unknown.