sisyphus no more

the grieving winds
  slow the pace
  of progress;
lighted bends
slick with your spittle
caresses of the wilderness

broken bodies
scarlet past
smoking my worries
in a manufactured liquid
uh! the seepage is disparaging
  clues of newness
  bisect tears
held at bay with bewilderment;
so slow the progress
so unorganized
so blue

the words are soft
like spoken kisses
drubbing at my staleness
prodding at my inertia
  making a lull
  tying a knot

pushing the boulder
is kind of exhausting
  maybe i’ll let it roll...
  watching passively
expecting nothing
just watching

and then i will pick my eyes up.

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