Blue Sky

In the end this was all eventual.
Losing all of my need.
Never showing or holding potential.
Leaving this all in the river.
I now bleed .
No longer whisked into the lead.
Poison lining my liver.
My grave stone, above the vine.
Accidental .
It was a result of my bottle-feed.
In the ground I will now forever dine.
The worms across my body, will slither.
Somehow I sleep as an intellectual.
Yet no longer to head.
Into my inconsolable greed.
I no longer bleed.