The Contents Of Myself

~Midnight --30 seconds past,
a book on the shelf,
the first and the last,
reflects the contents of myself

~Forgotten, yet full of past
recollections that go
and come-slow and fast-
yet rewardingly so.

~The only light,
hidden under shadow
ever bright,
ever hollow.

~Empty, like a cast,
but full of memories,
slipping away-ever so fast-
into ruin and debries

~Midnight--60 seconds past,
a book on the shelf
to compare and contrast
the contents of myself

~Then, watch it slip,
watch it fall,
watch it rip,
and then watch all

~that was inside of me
comes rushing out,
wild and free,
but full of doubt--

~half a minute, gone and wasted
over a dumb book on a shelf;
such a short life, f____d-up and hated--
these are the contents of myself.