Micropoetry

When I feel down
I call this friend
He tells me of
His pains and then
I only feel down
About feeling down

Nobody is an idiot
Each of us acts like one
On occasion
Some choose
To stay in character

There’s another guy
With an ultimatum
Unbothered unshy
Uncaring who’ll hate him

When you think the obvious
May have been stated,
Search for a reason
It was articulated.

The time we spend driving,
Instead of conniving,
Should be more deriving
A means of arriving.

No more can I see,
Touch, smell or taste,
Death strikes to free
All I’ve embraced.

But know: I can hear
The flow of a tear.

Sludgy rancor lines
The bottom of the crucible
Wherein tongue lies bridled,
Hand idled,
Strength forged.

Roads are the city’s veins,
And we, commuting corpuscles,
Coursing through them,
Keeping the city alive.

The joys of solitude
Only reveal themselves to you
If you can take yourself
For company.