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October 9, 2007

Jim: The Road To Hell

In numbers beyond measure, we walk the cracking road:
Ever straight, becoming a steel point on the horizon,
While smoke gray clouds growl deeply above.
No daytime, no night. Only the timeless gray.
And on we walk.

The road cuts through black forests of skeletal trees,
Their charred branches grasping toward the heavy clouds
With the futility of good intentions.
And on we walk.

That which is behind us cannot be remembered
And that which is ahead cannot be denied.
And on we walk.

We are drawn by hunger and by thirst.
And on we walk.

And on.

And on.

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Comments

Nice and dark Jim!

Posted by: Rick at October 9, 2007 7:17 PM · Permalink

Thanks, Rick!

This'll show whoever said that I can't write poetry as good as a 15 year old Goth chick!

Posted by: Jim Parkinson at October 9, 2007 7:29 PM · Permalink