Creatistically Inclined

An Audience of None

A catacomb 
Of unspoken 
Words 
And words
And words
Laid to rest
But not in peace
Pieces scattered 
Restless spirits
Haunt my streets
Nameless streets
All dead ends
A dreamy ghost town choked in fog 
Foggy thoughts
And memories 
I should have said the words I meant 
I meant to say them sooner
Later came before the latter
Of chances 
I’m a loser
Unspoken words 
I’ve bottled them 
On empty shelves
Left to soil and ferment 
While I rock
And rock
My audience
Dampened albums and broken clocks
Hear my pitiful 
Lament