Colin F. Jones

MELTDOWN

I entertain no one in my silence,
I make no promise I cannot keep,
Though kind thoughts be my parlance
‘Tis only while the Devil is fast asleep.
Sometimes warmth devoured by frost-fall
Is lost to the surge of private pain:
That one by one the engines parts stall,
That the struggle begins again.
Each key point we reach diminished,
Slowly crumples into dust,
For we know that we are finished,
When our selves we cannot trust,
That on the island of such anguish,
We melt away and rust.