monkeysclocksIt doesn’t make me any more real with my deal.
I just pick up the airwaves you do not see.
Then I don’t think there is anyway other way to be.

I doesn’t make any sense either, this fever.
That ripples through my mind like disease.
It certainly does not make it easier to see.

It doesn’t make me a special case, in a special place.
The time and space is the same for me as you.
I just loose that sense of reality that glues.

It doesn’t make need to bow for the sake of graces.
I can stand on these two broken legs like anyone.
After all fighting demons just like everyone.

It doesn’t mean I don’t want to to give it up.
Cut my loses and embrace the long dark sleep.
Fear my family cry in darkness and weeps.

It doesn’t mean I will let this dam thing win.
I still have one good arm and a head full of sin.
Just talk to me later when the alarm is out of din.

D 2013

(I couldn’t come up with anything new for the new year but this old poem is kinda where my head is at right now. Hopefully 2017 will be kinder.)


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