Gone With The Whim

I'm done with the duty, the daylight, the din, Let solitude lure me, let shadows sink in. I'll quit every quorum, each querulous chore I'll slip shadows my shilling, slip silence some more No postcard, no postmark, no plausible plan, Just cryptic confessions to no one, I am. I'll wade into whispers, in whirlpools of woe, Where clock-hands collapse and the hours won't go. I'll barter my burdens for blackened-out skies, For moonlight that mutters, for midnight that lies. I'll gamble my grief on the grin of the grim, Cash out my conscience-be gone with the whim. I'll crawl into corners where compass can't point, Where fate smokes its luck in a lockjawed joint. I'll haunt my own hollows, hum dirges in dream, Drink deep from the drip of the dusk's dead stream.