Through it, Fluid

Slow. Still. My stance reflects.
Not sure what do next do. Can’t even
Talk correctly. Want that hail to come back.
Tonight, finishing 2 poems.
Stop with the promises, I know–
Anxiety glow. Weather changing
With a writer’s current.
My own vile vintage.
Expected, 2B not. Altruist..
Tonight, locked in. No escape.
Fleeing gives goals individual
Death dates. Reset gates.. New
Vision, constancy in division.
A cover, pages under, my only mission.

12/22/12

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mikemadigan

Writer/Blogger - bottledaux.com

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