‘basement’
mother doesn’t understand my profession. family holds their tongue. i’m reminded of strung hours in your futile ways while my own hands self-sacrifice till numb. down here the damp wreaks havoc waiting on blooming bones while booze goes slugged in detoured moments alone. all forget i claim a crown to king of men. i pave the ways without words to be said. as it was in the beginning so shall it be in the end. and so i wait. feet propped atop the table. a shiv sharp smile assiduously concealed.
basement
a low state, rank or condition
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© Joseph A. Pinto
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Poetry served raw and unedited from the moment crafted
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