a devilish gleam
has left my eye
replaced by an
old, familiar,
dead look
the wrong women
the wrong things
till feeling feels wrong
and the heavy returns
and i put on the mask
and things get
comfortable bad
no real resolution
just part of the cycle
this old, familiar,
dead look
this comfortable bad
this sleeping too little
or too much
this mask
this death
of desire
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1 comment:
I always like reading your poems Mike. I find them dark and I like that.
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