Purpose – much coveted, despair-driven – has returned. Energy – motivation to proceed – building. Willingness – once vibrant, now constrained – resists. Chasms –
A single tear – white-hot acid announces self pity – abhorrent emotion – mid-day, body crashed, I am foul-minded, drag-down unreasonable – spiteful shut my
Ancestral circles steeped in lore – symbolism lost, and imminent – Geometric rhythms play with destiny, ascribe fates. (For Willow Poetry’s What Do You See?
Digging for gold in an overcrowded mine, the dust of narcissism blinding our passage. Rural roots worship celebrity – well-travelled hype overshadowing common decency –
I toil in the dreamtime like a night manager in a hotel without walls, catering to clientele – whose needs, so diverse, rattle the rows
Cigarette butts no longer linger concrete, but I swear the cloud of smoke lingers, the sweat of adolescent anxiety – the suffocating pressure to comply