“A CEASELESS DESCENT”

Upon crossing my ankles
and kicking back
my chair,
I muse upon this noose;
how frequent it has broke
my fall this year.

They told me it gets better
after I hit bottom, but
what, I wonder, does one hit
after the bottom drops out?

I am stuck hanging
on to nothing;
free falling
sans terminus.

Even my end is without
end. This life,
the length of this life.

It just
goes on.

narrative poem written on 10-23-2013 by: on mattkane.com
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A CEASELESS DESCENT | poem by Matt Kane Fine Art

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