The wind's indifference

So I sit, hermit

Licking wounds and Rizla papers

Rain attacking panes above my head

Nerves in tatters

A man without a project

Just hanging on

Trying to do his best

Epitaph, perhaps

Drawing from the substrate

Rooted into shattered rock

And the wind blows

Neither stake, nor tether

To hold the perpendicular

One leaf following another

Whose horror should be spared?

The wind neither knows nor cares