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.
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.