Boredom

The whisper in my heart
Is of another daytime
The thoughts on my breathe, have dried
Like beats from within a black birds vest

A smile in a crowded room
Opens a window much too soon
Staying on the right track, the
detour ahead won't take me back

Avoid the void, the coupon has retired
The storms have left the best expired
Water has washed out a well worn path
Taken away many but not the fast

Forgotten by many, at least by one
While playing in the last of the sun
Return the sender to the mail house
Drawl the stamp, then send the dog out

Capture the story if it can be found
My words have become wound, around
tangles and coils; the innards of my mind
Trailing in the the distance, a mime or twine

What has become of the red sunset
Here last night, but not yet
Burnt like feathers in morning sunrise
I thought it at once, but wasn't wise

How else to clog the pores
But klogs once through open doors
just a portal, within another time
What was once, was just to pine

How else to relieve the stress
But to find what defines the dress
Like fine white linen upon the board
I write, alriight? For I am bored.

Papersoldier