I’m pulling the plug; I’m
Yanking the rug from under my feet.
A honey so sweet it goes down like a
I’ll drink it complete; just give me a reason
To think, beyond thought; to dream up a plot and,
Spurred to inaction,
Sit here and rot in diseased satisfaction.
(Draft of retraction; intended redaction)
I’d believe in friendly ghosts if it weren’t for evil spirits;
I know enough of fear by now to know I ought to fear it.
Life’s a dragon rears its head whenever I go near it.
I’d declare my love for you if you were here to hear it…
If I could fight for anything, I would fight for you. It’s
True, I am a weakling: few who have an inkling
Of their own lack of potential spout words as torrentially
As I. This fly’s a butterfly.
And now its wings are in my eye
And I can’t see.
Would someone set me free from all this
Flapping? The sound of one hand clapping is the sound
Of one man grappling with inconsequence
Bordering on incontinence. I’d walk the seven continents–
(Or are there only six?)
Hit the bricks and
Let me be.