The sun still shines and

the sky remains blue but

something lurks beneath

Spitting vitriol 

like cobra's venom is now 

innate, a knee jerk. 

A small-town parade

passes by with both old and 

young waving, smiling

Glimmering ghosts of

the heart still visit from time

to time, mere whispers. 

You check and recheck 

hoping some random message

will change everything.

This remains and

will always be untitled 

and without meaning 

I'm a stumbling and

bumbling and sometimes foolish

man (on the inside).