The present is a conclave of conflicting ideas
and a rigmarole of troublesome thoughts; petals
which once adorned the bride, now flake whittled
dreams and jeopardized enigmas. The widowed future
is mired by a defunct past and a withered present.
I embrace death on my birthday.
(c) Juan Baldo Delacroix, Deadwoodedition.com. All rights reserved, 2011.