Remnants

I saw world of distant land
from memory map
like drunkard in bad temper
scribbled I hasty words
often deformed,
in contorted meanings
passionate lover for a kiss
I write to be poet.
My thoughts limp in crutches
and look mournfully into tired eyes.
In eerie I wake up
among nights
evaporated ink,
skeletons of words
laugh at me. I know I would start it
all again.