Every Morning
Wading through complexity, noises a cacophony
Voices vie for supremacy, inner children, DJs at quiztime
A diabolical party, leaving you no time to think
If even thinking would help.
Helpless, floating
Keep it short, they said.
So I did.
20 December 2021
The shape of the thing
Mysterious, and
Not quite opaque
Inscrutable, bland
Yet calling, as if
A voice from afar
Its outline may shimmer
Unconfident, shaking
But still, it pervades
With consciousness clouded
Perhaps, he thought
I ought
To give these mushrooms
The benefit
Of the doubt.
4 December 2021
Was It Worth It
Was it worth it?
That ill-begotten, grabbed gain,
Really, was it worth the pain?
A moment of pleasure, toward buried treasure
But: taken not earned, a life upturned
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