Of ‘Celia Upon Her Sparrow’ I wrote // thoughts made up through staring at books // for too long; too small a font // I never could lament // no well to draw upon // I pretend I have // a future down a path // less trodden; less bare // I think I might // be wrong indeed

procrastination ;;; an icy wall I attempt to climb ;;; impatience ;;; the slippery slope on the other side ;;; hyperbolic discounting ;;; I gnaw on the bones – smiling

not of the people

Being not of ‘the People’

I have no say,

I watch from the sidelines

as the Castle crumbles

.

My skin is white

as snow is white and yellow,

Maybe I leaked or

Pissed you off intentionally

.

I do not fly

as flies fly,

I do fly

my flag high tho’

.

In Magnums I believed

years ago,

In nothing I believe

this day forwards

They say alcohol is a depressant,

On the whole though I must confess,

I prefer the highs of selected bottles,

The finest of wines consumed,

Thereafter the likely pounding head,

The slow recovery; yet recovery still,

Until the waking eye once more can bare,

The rising sun; the world around,

To that of a life in drought; my desert storm,

Days for some reason unbeknownst to self,

Flat and pointless appear always,

A landscape changing,

Much as a fading photo ages,

Over time