Head

The head of Man from the shoulders falls.

As a species eventually, decapitated,

As a person I sleep and others abhors

for being I so loose of control,

not castigated!  

Sunny side of the street of my shame, 

thank you for your being there for me,

if not as a fact, as imagination,

hard rock of mental existence,

I thee reclaim,  set me free of the past where I lay trapped.  

Oh nimbus of my tainted sky, oh something that may appear and help in some way,

I fear the moment of succumbing. Nonsense over a year, fate at one only day.