People pass by
as i sit against the glass railing
in this technical building.
Their bodies swim through the air
as i lay drowned.
A sunken pirate ship
bound to this saturated hell
by my hull full of booty
and stolen booze.
My flesh like rotten wood
being picked apart by parasites.
but am slowly preserved
by the poisons in my food
I am becoming a mummy
in a British museum.
Watching people pass by,
watching time run a marathon
in Loring Park,
then across the city.
Watching clouds fill up my ears
and mask my eyes.
I'm becoming lost
in the fabled, mysterious, fog
of future possibles
and last chance forgottens,
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Comments about this poem (Faded by Craig Kerm )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
Alfred Lord Tennyson
(6 August 1809 – 6 October 1892)
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(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
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