The Eminent Mile.

Strapped in, strapped in tight.
Tight enough to feel the blade of life
As it slips slowly through suffocated lungs,
Until at last I am consumed in that familiar fear.
It washes over me cold, indignant
And as hungry as the bum on the corner.

Until at last, I am dead.

When at last the little twirling girl carrying the daisies has left.

Change came so quickly without a drop of rain.
I'm wondering if I'll ever see her again;
She's a wanderer in the desert ocean,
Maneuvering icy waves in violent motions
As the world all around pounds the gavel down.
Maybe it's her fault they penned her the clown.
Maybe it's she's an infant recently lost at sea.
No one knows for how long she's been wandering.
All I know is that I miss her face,
And the days proceeding this merciless change.
I'm hoping someday we'll see her again.
Until then, stay waiting for that desert rain.