Street Apple
written by: Rick Howe
Somewhere, down there
In amongst the headaches
And the chest pains
The coughing and the blood in
The back of the throat
I am walking, thinking
Somewhere, bound in thorns
Within molten panoply
Somewhere within descriptions
Of much less definition
But possibly more meaning
I am walking, thinking
And there is an apple on the street
Flesh bitten and browning underneath
Bruised and broken at the core
Left for the ants, the wasps, the flies
Somehow it snidely
Puts me in mind of futility
And angers me
I kick it and it breaks up
Skidding out into the road
And I feel nothing but frustration
No relief at all
Have I now got more affinity with destroyed fruit
Than with my fellow-man?
Am I now that far gone that I identify with food waste
More readily than I do with humanity?
Somewhere in here
Beneath all of the reverse fire confusion
I suffocate slowly
I am walking, thinking
Slowing in both every day.
He hopes to reach as many souls as he can with his work, and maybe bring a little warmth to lives with shared experiences.
- She Moves Like Woven Silken Strands - July 25, 2018
- Rose - July 5, 2018
- Street Apple - June 15, 2018
