cowboy poem
this sickness seems to be all
inside me now
I’m thinking it’s not wise
to keep looking back
you say there’s nothing
wrong with me
but we both know
I’m dying
this time there’s no letting go
and I’m left
looking inside
telling myself there’s no one
who can save me now
so just go ahead
and pull the trigger
free me from myself
the lights keep changing
but in fact
they’re all the same
I can’t seem to distinguish
red from yellow to green
the horsepower is gone
barely idling in neutral
all else racing by
january two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
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