last morning
a couple short naps
to get me through
as i gather my things
triple checking
my double check
before loading up
a run to mexia
cross country up
to little hillsboro
then back home
waiting for breakfast
to be prepared
sitting in this cell
listening to traffic
so many miles driven
for little return
the small towns
sit stagnant in
my aching mind
frozen images of
a crumbling infrastructure
the turkey vultures
picking at corpses
hidden in the tall grass
i won’t miss temple
just the week lost
miserable in this hotel
drowning in silence
knowing home is
more of the same
just with a familiar
bittersweet nothing
a fool drifting
locked in this
mobile stasis where
no matter how far
i run from melancholia
it paints every breath
with lonely hues of
the quiet choking
this broken fool