Wednesday, December 17, 2014

poem of the day 12.17.14


vulnerable

it is
in those moments
tired
hungover
up doing what you’ve
been doing for years
when you suddenly
find yourself
without the words
without
the resolute desire to create
just sitting there
staring at the wall
and the clock
that you begin to wonder
if this is it
the magic gone
the joy
the fun
absent
time to hang it up
and simply go to work
shove
food down your mouth
two to three times a day
sit on the bus
reading a bestseller
or shouting
into a cell phone
at some poor bastard
coming home
to the couch
communing with the television
those regrets
those thwarted dreams
left with nothing
but to wait on bed or death
finally
just as weak
and vulnerable
as all the rest
                                                

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