the death of a friend
D A Ash
|AUTHOR'S OTHER TITLES (5)
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D A Ash
in the tumultuous exsitence of being
what makes us act as though we are alone
for as we work towards our next achievement
drinks will go unpaid for at last call.
so as the unspoken smoke wisps away
we should all be heeding the great hum
that lingers in the tintinitus of mankind
by the roaring of conscience.
words when spoken always seem to be defending
something or another, but never, at the end,
anything of great relevance other than some
ego out to superscede the latest.
that all having been said,
where is my dead friend?
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© 2011 D A Ash
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