Aeon Second
poetic scribble by Bob Axell 2009

 

I feel cobblestone, cold as the fire burning in my shoe
The fire burning higher and I can't seem to resume
The same pace of walk or the same ways of talk
Refrain from all sane phrases lain out to reason
The season is of sickness, yet our deceitful treason
Follows us with quickness, will not leave us in peace one
Second by ourselves, just enough to end this hell
And say farewell to this grim beautiful earth