Monday, February 20, 2012

I Haven't Written Any Happy Poems For A Long Time. Now Isn't One of Those Times Either.

And Return To The Well 

A stubborn mule,
My hands, and my head and my heart
Warring, throughout it all
Each wants a chunk of this
Which struggles for it's own turn.

Should hate,
Should run,
Should jump,
Should pull

And I had a reason to not
To not do a lot of things
And you vanished in a puff if smoke
Like my clarity.
So what's stopping me from never waking up?
I imagine it's my dreams.
But oh, here's another problem.

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