Same junkyard

** same junkyard **
Long lines of thought
Meander wend and wind there way
From me to same destination
By short exploration or long
These circlious paths take
From dreams to ideas to hopes
All end in same junkyard
Of this battered broken heart
The springs are broken bolts are sheared
There cannot be more to find
The blackened remains of whatever was
Taste of ashes in the wind
Perpetual storm clouds black and threatening
No better days will ever rise
This depression and desolation
Marked on face as carved into heart
The simple pleasures once sought
As dust on lips are found
No life giving love flows
Parched and dry constriction continues
Unable to speak death claims
The last shreds of what I am
Upon the wind the greasy ribbons of smoke are me.