The Wanderers

[MichaelFirewalker]

perhaps everyone
looks outward
from within
then
inward
from without
much the same way

maybe we all die
then ghastly wander
town to town in glum
pretense of life

are we the dreaded
dead who hang around
remembering how
once we thrived
bed-wed to blood
that pounded out
impassioned breath
mad with daily death
sung in poisonous
cacaphonies of
strangulated sound

or might we be the ones who
run hopeless hunts aground
to find cause of random loss
then point one haphazard
dripping cross skyward
to beg some mercy down
upon the sad psychotic
vagaries of human dross

logically at least
it seems that some of us
ought not bother coming back
just to walk our same old track
again again again

logic
however
does not
call the shots