My Writing

It meanders

through the streams of my consciousness;

it pursues

every half-cooked and hollow pretend opus;

it echoes

through my head again and again ad nauseam;

it flows

thru pens and PCs by the hundreds per diem;

it stalls

faltering, foundering, failing to launch;

it falls

on deaf ears, lacking promise or punch;

it drives

me onwards and crazy, in-n-out of depression;

it thrives

unencouraged, unpraised, all out of fashion;

it describes

how I think, feel and wonder in half-broken rhyme;

it subsides

when passion dwindles and daily life swindles my time…


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