I’m very thirsty; those missed opportunities are future endeavors. My thoughts are unchanged; I struggle to collect my wits. My tongue anguishes for amusing speech. I wish I could manipulate time to change the fate of my deserted well that’s run dry. The temperature continues to stifle; my spirit is about to die.
Published by David W. Jones
David is a writer and blogger who enjoys creating literary expressions about everyday life. He is a published poet and currently doing reviews, creative writing, and storytelling. David's interests include narrating point-of-view scenarios, documenting non-fiction, and writing scripts for film and television.
View all posts by David W. Jones