It’s only repetition,
alarm bell knocking on the door
of a cold Acland street.
the fork of life is lost
in singularity
and the night stabbed with a knife
not young any more.
principles are irrelevant—
regardless of their faith
like an attitude
against the rules of life.
a lack of fortune exposed.
like a sadness on the face
of a merciful coin sleeping
in a hat.

©Tom Del Braco

Leave a Reply

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